Til Our Souls Catch Us Up
by half agony and hope
Summary: When the CBI team is assigned a case with a witness who shares a striking resemblance to Jane's daughter, Lisbon worries that Red John is involved – and that Jane will be pulled in too deep.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I've had parts of this story written since August, but moving to a new city with the start of grad school put this fic on hold. At any rate, I finally feel like my life is somewhat manageable again, and that means it's time for a new multichapter!**

 **As of yet, I'm not entirely sure how many chapters this will be or when I'll be able to update. However, the next two chapters are written, so at least those updates will be regular. After that, I'll post new chapters when I can.**

 **Side note: this takes place sometime in late season 4. I admit to laziness and not looking up specific timelines for the show, so certain dates that the characters mention may be off. But since the writers on the show never kept an accurate timeline, I feel like I don't have to either!**

 **I also want to say thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed** _ **And We Can Light a Match.**_ **I was floored by the response to it. I don't know if I'll be able to continue to reply to every review because life has been crazy, but know that I read them all and appreciate that you take the time to tell me what you think of my stories.**

 **Also: song lyrics and the story's title are from "Bring On the Wonder" by Susan Enan and Sarah McLachlan.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _I can't see the stars anymore living here_

* * *

The call almost goes to voicemail before he picks up.

"Hi Lisbon," says a sleepy voice on the other end of the line. "To what do I owe this very early morning pleasure?"

Lisbon smiles in spite of herself and blinks into the first streams of morning sunlight. She nods at one of the EMTs beside her and takes a step away from the ambulance, where a young woman is currently being checked out.

Lisbon fights the urge to yawn. Though it's barely 5 AM, it's already been a long morning.

"I'm sorry," she says sincerely. "Sounds like you actually got some sleep last night."

"It's alright, Lisbon," says Jane, and she hears rustling sounds, as though Jane is throwing back the sheets and making to get out of bed. "You're at a scene?"

Lisbon nods to herself. "Yes," she says. "Well, yes and no," she amends. "We have a witness but no body."

The rustling on the other end of the line stops. "Really?" says Jane, and she can tell his curiosity is roused. "A witness to a murder?"

"She seems to believe so," says Lisbon.

"You don't sound convinced," notes Jane.

Lisbon shrugs, trying to think of what to say. "I don't know if she's exactly a reliable witness," she says. "She seems to be suffering from some sort of amnesia—at any rate, she doesn't know who she is, and she doesn't have any memories of her life. I was hoping you could help."

"Where are you?" says Jane tersely, no-nonsense.

"Sac PD headquarters. The girl showed up on their doorstep just after four this morning."

"I'm on my way."

* * *

Lisbon watches as Jane's Citroen pulls into the Sac PD parking lot. To her surprise, he actually parks in a designated spot, and she jogs over to meet him.

"Young woman—if I had to estimate, I'd say she's sixteen, maybe fifteen," says Lisbon in a rush as they walk together towards the ambulance. The girl comes into view, and Jane's face is unreadable as he studies her for the first time. "EMTs checked her out and told us she seems perfectly healthy—besides the fact that she was in shock when she turned up. We got a cheek swab to run DNA, but something will only turn up if she's in the system, which seems unlikely, and it'll take at least 24 hours to get the results back." Lisbon pauses for a beat as they continue walking. "She says she saw a shooting a few blocks from here. We searched the area but didn't find a body, and we haven't been able to get anything else out of her," Lisbon says. Jane glances at her. "Like I said, she doesn't remember anything."

Jane's fingers brush her own. "Well, let's see what we can do about that, huh?"

They approach the girl, and Lisbon marvels at how strangely calm she looks. She's brushing her matted hair with a comb Lisbon had given her earlier, her long blonde waves tangled together. A blanket from the ambulance is draped around her shoulders, covering up a ragged t-shirt and ripped blue jeans. Jane shoots Lisbon a glance when he notices the girl isn't wearing shoes.

"Hi, sweetie," says Lisbon as they approach where the girl is seated at the back of the ambulance. The girl's gaze snaps up to look at Lisbon, and then she glances sharply over at Jane. Lisbon watches Jane's eyes narrow curiously.

"Hi Teresa," says the girl, her voice confident. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Patrick," says Lisbon, gesturing to Jane, who waves hello. "He's got a knack for figuring things out. I'm hoping he can help you."

The girl's expression turns wary. "You're a doctor?" she asks, eying Jane with suspicion.

Jane chuckles. "God, no," he says, and his words cause the tension in her shoulders to lessen.

"Then what exactly are you?"

Jane looks over at Lisbon, amused, then his gaze returns to the girl. "Teresa here would say a pain in the ass, but I don't think that would necessarily reassure you."

The girl smiles, and Jane sits down beside her.

"You like to write?" asks Jane, and the girl's brow wrinkles.

"I don't know," she admits. "Why?"

Jane points to her left hand. "You have smudges on the side of your palm that left-handed individuals get when writing. You also have small calluses on your index and middle fingers indicative of prolonged and repeated use of a pencil or pen."

"Oh," says the girl. "I guess I do. I'm a writer?"

Jane shrugs. "It seems likely. Are you a Jane Austen fan?"

"What?"

"Female teenaged writer…the next logical assumption is that you're a reader as well. What's your favorite classic?"

" _Jane Eyre_ ," she says without thinking, and Jane smiles at her.

He looks over at Lisbon. "Her memories are there, Lisbon. They're just hiding." He looks back at the young woman. "My wife liked _Jane Eyre,_ too," he says. "We named our daughter after the author."

The girl looks from Jane to Lisbon and back again, apparently confused by his use of the past tense. "'Liked'?" she asks.

Jane nods. "My wife and daughter died many years ago," he confirms.

The girl's sea-green eyes mist over. "I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"It's alright," says Jane, a sad smile on his face. "It was a long time ago."

* * *

The girl refuses to leave Jane's side, so he drives her to the CBI in his Citroen. Jane rolls his eyes as he pulls out of the Sac PD parking lot—Lisbon is right behind him in her standard CBI-issue SUV, protective as ever.

"You like her," says the girl, her tone confident again, a gleam in her eye.

Jane glances over to the passenger side. "Of course I like Lisbon," he says automatically.

The girl shakes her head, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. "You know what I meant," she says, the corners of her mouth twitching up. "Not that it matters, but I approve—she's totally hot and seems like a freaking badass."

Jane's eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"Any idiot with eyes can see it," says the girl, with the air of explaining to a toddler that one and one make two. She shrugs. "You two would be good for each other. She's the control freak, obviously, and you're the rule-breaker. You complement each other. You know, like ying and yang."

Jane sighs. "The situation is…complicated," he finally says.

"How long has it been since your wife died?"

"About a decade."

"Then it's time for you to be happy again. Wouldn't your family want that?"

Jane stops the car at a red light and looks over at his passenger. "I have no idea," he says honestly.

The girl wraps the EMT blanket more tightly around her. "All I'm saying is, it's easy to tell she likes you. The way she stares at you when you don't know she's looking…"

The light turns green, and Jane speeds forward. "And what way is that?"

The girl smiles. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Jane chuckles. "Do you give your own parents this much lip?"

Her expression darkens. "I can't remember," she says. "I can't remember them at all."

Jane reaches over to touch her shoulder lightly. "We'll find them," he assures her. "I'm sure wherever they are, they're out searching for you."

Ten minutes later, they pull into the CBI parking lot, and Jane leads the girl up to the serious crimes floor. She heads to his brown couch without asking for permission, and her eyes are closed before her head hits the cushion. Jane takes the discarded blanket from the floor and drags it over her, covering her up.

He turns to find Lisbon staring at him, her expression unreadable.

"How is she?" Lisbon asks.

"Exhausted," answers Jane. "And understandably so—I think she's been up the whole night."

The sun is up now, and it floods the bullpen.

"And how are you?" Lisbon's voice is cautious, concerned.

Jane looks back over at the sleeping girl. "She's like a ghost," he whispers.

Lisbon nods. "You have precisely the same color eyes, did you see that?" She is standing next to him now, and he reaches for her hand. "And her hair—it's the same texture and color as yours as well. I'm sorry," she says suddenly. "I should have warned you when I called. I just didn't know what to say."

Jane shakes his head and waves off her apology. He swallows. "Charlotte would be sixteen next month."

"You think Red John orchestrated this? Found a girl that resembled Charlotte and then hypnotized her to forget her memories?"

"I think that explanation makes a hell of a lot more sense than anything else I can come up with. No way this is a coincidence." He glances at her, and she looks at him from the corner of her eye.

"She told me that you'd be good for me—we'd be good for each other," Jane says softly. "Sometimes, in my dreams, I imagine Charlotte saying that."

Lisbon opens her mouth to reply, but the elevator dings, announcing the arrival of the rest of the team, and the moment is lost.

Come late morning, there are still no reports of a missing person fitting the description of the girl. There is no murder victim either, despite the claims made by the girl earlier that day, and Jane wonders aloud to Lisbon.

"Maybe there was never a shooting at all."

She looks at him. "Is it possible Red John made her say that, knowing we'd get the call if a homicide was involved?"

But his eyes are locked onto the girl's sleeping form. "This is unreal," he finally says, and then, "I have an idea."

* * *

When she wakes, Jane ushers the girl into Lisbon's office and sits across the table from her. Lisbon is at her desk, typing away at her computer, and she watches as Jane deals a deck of cards.

"You know how to play poker?" he asks, and he pulls out a bag of M&M's he bought from the vending machine to use in lieu of chips. When the girl shakes her head no, Jane smiles. "I'll teach you. You'll be bluffing your way to millions in no time."

He begins to explain the game, and her brow furrows as she begins to concentrate. Lisbon stands up from her desk and heads towards them carrying a blank form and a pen.

"Sorry to interrupt, sweetie, but I need you to sign this form for the EMTs from this morning," she says, and the girl glances at her absently, grabs the pen, and scribbles on the paper.

Jane immediately stops talking. He lunges for the form.

At the top, in the box for _First Name_ , is one word in neat, cursive handwriting.

 _Charlotte._

"Oh my God," says Lisbon, and the girl looks back and forth between them, confused.

Jane is frozen, his eyes unblinking, but he begins to speak slowly to explain.

"Your memories are still there," he says, "even if they're hidden. But muscle memory happens to be particularly strong. I thought if we could distract you, your brain wouldn't overthink things, and your muscle memory would take over." His eyes meet the young girl's. "It worked."

The girl looks down at the paper. "That's my name?" she whispers. "My name is Charlotte?" She frowns. "You had a daughter named Charlotte," she says with a look of dawning comprehension, and she is every bit as bright as Jane would expect her to be.

"Yes," he says.

"I'm your daughter?"

He shakes his head. "I don't think so. You can't be—my daughter was killed a decade ago."

"But…?"

Jane looks at Lisbon, lost. "I don't know," he says, pushing his chair away from the table. "I don't know."

Lisbon kneels in front of him and places her hands on his thighs. "Jane," she says, and her green eyes are bright. "Is there any chance…is there any chance she could be Charlotte?"

Jane's hands shake, and he puts them on Lisbon's shoulders to steady himself. "I personally ID'd the body," he says in disbelief. "She didn't have a pulse. There was blood everywhere—there was _so_ much blood."

" _Jane_ ," says Lisbon forcefully. "Was she cold? Do you remember if she was cold?"

His eyes rove around the room, and she knows he is searching his memory palace. After about a minute, he meets her gaze. "I don't remember," he finally says.

"Her death could have been staged," says Lisbon. "There are chemical compounds which decrease metabolism and cause paralysis, and with the help of a makeup artist, it would have been simple to create fake wounds."

Jane's breathing becomes irregular. "Make a call to forensics, Lisbon. They'll need my DNA for comparison."

Lisbon knocks on the glass of her office forcefully to signal to her team in the bullpen, and Van Pelt appears in her doorway a second later. "Boss?"

Lisbon scribbles a phone number and a name on a piece of scratch paper and hands it to Van Pelt. "I have a friend in forensics who owes me. Tell her I need to cash in that favor," says Lisbon, and Van Pelt takes one look at her face before dashing away to make the call.

Lisbon turns to Jane again. "We're going to need to exhume their graves," she whispers.

"It was a closed-casket funeral," he says unevenly, his breath catching, and it's not difficult to work out why closed caskets were necessary. Lisbon had seen the crime scene photos—there wasn't a chance the bodies could have been shown to the public. "For all I know, the caskets could have been empty when they went into the ground."

Jane's eyes meet hers again, and she can see that he's barely keeping himself afloat. "You have to go into this with no expectations, Jane," Lisbon urges him. "As much as I hate to tell you this, you can't allow yourself to hope—because what if things don't turn out how you want?"

But it's too late, she realizes, as he looks over at the girl who may or may not be his daughter.

He's already in far too deep.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I loved reading what everyone thought about the first chapter! Seems it was split pretty much half and half regarding if you guys wanted the girl to be Charlotte or not. So, without further ado, here's the second chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _Let's go to the hills where the outlines are clear_

* * *

Lisbon's friend, the head of a private forensics lab, shows up forty-seven minutes later and quickly takes cheek swab samples from Jane and the girl. Sending the DNA to an outside lab is a necessity, thinks Lisbon, since she doesn't trust the CBI forensics division, and Jane agrees with her.

Cho accompanies Lisbon's friend back to her lab, where he will watch as the analysis is completed. Though Lisbon trusts her friend, she is worried for her—if Red John can infiltrate the CBI, a forensics lab would be child's play.

Van Pelt and Rigsby head with Jane to the cemetery, and the exhumation begins.

The girl remains in Lisbon's office, looking confused and lost, and Lisbon goes to fetch her a cup of tea. She looks up when Lisbon sits down beside her on the couch and accepts the cup gratefully.

Lisbon just looks at her—the girl who may or may not be her best friend's daughter.

"What the hell is going on?" the girl asks, and Lisbon can tell she's very near tears.

So Lisbon explains. She tells the girl that Jane lost his family long ago to a serial killer and that he has been fighting every day since then to bring Red John to justice. Lisbon explains to the young woman that she might be the daughter Jane had thought he'd lost.

"But how can all of my memories of that be gone?" asks the girl, frustrated. She sniffs and wipes at her nose, and Lisbon is amazed that she hasn't given in to tears already. "How can I not know if Patrick's my dad?"

"This man we're trying to track down," says Lisbon. "He's manipulative. He plays mind games. He might have been able to lock away your memories using some type of hypnosis. I'm not sure—not even Jane knows exactly. But we're going to do our best to find out."

The girl sighs and takes a sip of tea. "If this serial killer doesn't want to be found, it makes sense that he would take away my memories. I might know something that could lead Patrick to him."

Lisbon nods. "That's a possibility we have to consider, yes."

"Why now?" asks the girl. "If I've been missing for a decade, why return me now?"

Lisbon leans forward to rest her hand on the girl's knee. "There's a chance you may still be in danger," she says, figuring honesty is best.

Understanding washes over the girl, and it's immediately apparent on her face. "You're saying that man—the killer—might come back for me. He might target me again."

Lisbon nods, and when she speaks, her voice is low. "It would utterly destroy Jane to get his daughter back only to lose her. He survived Charlotte's death the first time by some miracle—I don't know if he'd survive it again."

* * *

There isn't any doubt regarding the identity of the skeleton in Angela Ruskin Jane's coffin.

The coroner points out a healed collarbone fracture, which Jane confirms—Angela had broken her clavicle when teaching Charlotte to ride a bike.

Lisbon plays devil's advocate over the phone. "Plenty of people break their collarbones, Jane," she says to him as he stands in the cemetery, looking down into the casket, clutching his phone like a lifeline. "Two of my brothers did. Red John could have switched out the skeletons."

"But not everyone has a chipped lower incisor, Lisbon. And Angela did. It wasn't visible when she smiled, so no one knew about it. But I knew."

Lisbon pushes aside a tiny stirring of jealousy and the accompanying inappropriate thoughts as to how exactly Jane had known about Angela's dentition. _His private life needs to remain private._

She disconnects the call and takes a deep breath.

* * *

There is no second skeleton.

* * *

After the exhumation, Jane meets Lisbon and his maybe-daughter at Lisbon's condo. Night has long since fallen, and the girl is still clinging to the blanket given to her by the EMTs. After dinner, she eagerly jumps at Lisbon's offer to use her shower, and Lisbon leaves clean clothes for her outside the bathroom door.

Lisbon joins Jane on the couch.

To her surprise, he pulls her into his arms. "I'm so lost," he mumbles.

Lisbon drops her head into the crook of his neck. "So I am," she whispers. He's trembling, just a little, and she looks up at him. "What's wrong? I mean, aside from the obvious?"

He takes a deep breath. "I allowed myself to think that I could have two miracles today when I didn't even know if I'd be granted one."

"Ah," says Lisbon in understanding. "You thought that since Charlotte might be alive, Angela might be, too?" His silence tells her she's spot on.

"Stupid, huh?"

"No," says Lisbon. "You love her—you'll always love her. You'd do anything to get her back."

Jane touches her face with quivering fingertips. "You know that whatever I feel for Angela," he says quietly, "it doesn't diminish what I feel for you, right?"

Lisbon nods against him. "I know."

"You're not a consolation prize. You're not my second choice." His words are desperate, and she realizes how badly he wants her to understand.

"I know, Jane. I've always known that."

"Good," he says, his eyelids closing.

They breathe together.

* * *

Charlotte heads up to the guestroom just after ten that evening, but Jane and Lisbon don't fall asleep until well after midnight.

They wake up the next day still tangled together on the couch, having slept for a solid twelve hours.

"I'm getting too old for this," Jane quips, grimacing as his hand touches his lower back, but he gives Lisbon a dazzling smile. "Perhaps next time we spend the night together, we spend it in an actual bed?"

The innuendo is obvious from his tone, and Lisbon blushes fiercely. "I like that idea," she mumbles.

He grins again and checks his watch. "My boss is going to kill me," he says. "I'm five hours late for work."

Lisbon smiles at him. "I bet she won't be mad if you had a good reason."

His smile widens. "Definitely a good reason," he murmurs.

They hear movement on the stairs and have just enough time to move to a slightly more appropriate position before the blonde young woman descends, clad in old high school sweatpants and a t-shirt of Lisbon's. The girl takes in Jane's tousled hair and his arms around Lisbon before grinning widely.

"You two are better than a romance novel," she says, shaking her head and smiling as she steps off the stairs. Her hair is pulled back into a bun on the top of her head. She looks tired but infinitely better than she appeared yesterday.

Lisbon is spared the need to respond when her cell phone beeps to signal an incoming call. The ID tells her it's Cho, and she picks up immediately.

"DNA results are back," says Cho without preamble. Lisbon hands the phone to Jane, who nods at whatever Cho is telling him.

When Jane's lower lip begins to shake, it's obvious what the results are.

He disconnects the call, and the phone slips from his fingers. Lisbon drops her arms from him, and he stands up, moving as if in a trance towards where the young girl is still standing, frozen, at the base of the staircase.

The girl is staring up at him in confusion, and he just looks at her in wonder. Lisbon feels a tear slip down her cheek.

"Dad?" the girl finally asks.

Jane just smiles, the biggest grin on his face, and he opens his arms.

Charlotte launches herself into them.

Jane's arms encircle his daughter, and Lisbon wants to cry with sheer happiness. Jane, she realizes, _is_ actually crying, and he lifts Charlotte off the ground, hugging her closer to him.

He sets her back down, and his hands frame her face. "You're beautiful," he says.

Charlotte laughs, and her shoulders shake. "But a bit lippy?"

"You get that from me," says Jane. "My God," he says. "Look at you. You're perfect."

Charlotte just flings her arms around her father's waist again.

Jane is speechless.

* * *

Jane refuses to let Charlotte out of his sight.

Lisbon feels like her heart has been obliterated and then carefully, excruciatingly, pieced back together. Every time she looks at the two of them, her heart expands, threatening to explode again, and she can't remember ever being so happy.

And yet a dark cloud looms. They don't go into work that day, still trying to process what has happened, and Lisbon calls Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt over to officially meet Jane's daughter. After dinner, Charlotte falls asleep on the couch, and Jane sits down on the floor beside her, his fingers running through her hair. Lisbon watches the wistful expression on his face, and he almost looks at peace for once.

Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt speak in hushed tones as night falls, sitting at Lisbon's kitchen table and discussing the future and Charlotte's place in it. Lisbon leans against the doorframe between the kitchen and living room, her eyes on Jane and Charlotte while she listens to the dialogue in the kitchen.

"Red John has put some kind of plan into motion," says Cho.

Van Pelt nods. "There's no way he'd keep Charlotte for a decade only to give her back to Jane with no questions asked. Something's up."

"The question is," says Rigsby, "what is he planning? And what can we do to stop it?"

Lisbon turns her body toward Jane. Though he's obviously fully absorbed in watching Charlotte sleep on the couch, he's been following the conversation.

"We have to assume Red John is going to follow his traditional MO," says Lisbon. At this, Jane finally looks up at her. He looks younger, as though the years since he'd lost Charlotte have been erased. He also looks terrified.

Lisbon _is_ terrified. Red John is planning to kill Jane's daughter. And Red John could be anyone—her team is no closer to his identity than they were when they were assigned the case years ago. And despite some small victories along the way, they haven't managed to outsmart him. How will they be able to keep Charlotte alive?

"We can't let Charlotte go anywhere without at least one of us with her," says Van Pelt, and Lisbon nods. Charlotte will need a chaperone at all times—preferably one who is heavily armed.

"Safe house?" suggests Rigsby. "I'm sure the CBI can help us set something up."

"We can't trust the CBI," says Cho.

"Alright," says Rigsby, frowning. "So we cut ties with the CBI."

"I hate to say this," Van Pelt says, "but I think we need the CBI on this one. We can't trust them, but at the same time...we need them."

Lisbon nods. "It makes me uneasy, too," she says. "But if we want to know of any developments in the case, we have to stay with the CBI."

"Jane and Lisbon could take Charlotte and run," Cho suggests. "And Rigsby, Van Pelt, and I could stay here to feed you updates on any developments."

"It'd be too easy for him to track us through you guys," Lisbon points out. "Plus, splitting up will make us weaker. It's probably what he wants." She looks at her team and sighs. "I wish I had the answers, but the truth is...I have absolutely no idea what to do."

Lisbon steps away from the kitchen and toward Jane. When she nears him, he reaches out his hand for her, and she sits beside him. She loops one arm through his and holds his hand between both of hers. Jane's other hand continues to run through Charlotte's hair.

"I'm afraid," he says quietly, for her ears only.

He turns towards her, and he rests his forehead against hers. Suddenly it occurs to Lisbon that he's frightened of more than just Red John.

"We'll all be fine," she promises, holding his gaze. "What are you still scared of?"

He takes a deep breath. "Of losing Charlotte. Of losing the team. And…of losing you."

It takes him a while to get the words out, as though he's fighting to tell her the truth.

"She likes you, you know," says Jane suddenly. "And she was right when she said that we're good for each other. She saw that right away. Why has it taken us so long to come to the same conclusion?"

Lisbon has no answer to that. Instead, she says, "I'm afraid, too. Of the same things you are."

Jane looks at her with a curious expression on his face. "Maybe we should stop letting that fear control us."

"What would that involve?" she asks, holding her breath.

Jane glances at Charlotte and brushes her hair away from her face as she continues to doze. He turns back to Lisbon.

"Falling," he says simply. "Just falling."

"I think...I think I could do that."

Jane squeezes her hand. "I should warn you, Lisbon—when I fall, I fall quickly and completely."

She rests her head on his shoulder, and he kisses her temple.

"Good," says Lisbon. "Because so do I."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting this story! I'm so glad you all are along for the ride. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you'll like it as well!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _Bring on the wonder_

* * *

She's brushing her teeth when he appears in the doorframe leading from her bathroom to the master bedroom. She jumps and swallows a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Sorry," says Jane. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

He looks exhausted, she thinks. But if anyone has a right to be, it is Jane—he'd just got his long-lost daughter back after a decade. Lisbon would be more surprised if he _weren't_ emotionally drained.

"It's okay," she says. "I'm just jumpy…you know, with everything that's happened."

She rinses her mouth and walks over to him. The fluorescent lighting of the bathroom makes his skin appear more pale and translucent than usual, and she can make out blue blood vessels on his forearms where he's rolled up his shirtsleeves. She knows she can't look any better—it's been an exhausting couple of days for her as well.

"What's wrong?" Lisbon asks.

Jane shakes his head. "I…"

She watches him struggle for words.

"I just tucked Charlotte into bed," he finally says.

 _Oh._

"I just tucked _my daughter_ into bed." And suddenly there are tears rolling down his face, and without thinking about it Lisbon steps forward to throw her arms around him.

"Oh, Jane," she says, and she feels his arms wrap around her torso and squeeze tightly. He lowers his forehead to her shoulder. He doesn't make a sound, but she knows he is crying when the material on her pajamas becomes damp with his tears. She cradles the back of his head in her hand.

Lisbon loses track of how long she holds him for, but eventually he comes back to her and pulls away. He takes a step back and refuses to meet her eyes. "Sorry," he says again, and he wipes at his eyes and shakes his head.

She smiles at him shyly. "That's what I'm here for," she says, glancing past him at the digital clock on her bed stand, which now reads 1:23 AM in bright red. Lisbon sighs. They are both in dire need of rest, and she will _not_ let him sleep on her couch again.

She gathers up her courage. "I normally sleep on the left side of the bed," she says shakily. "That alright with you?"

His eyes dart up to meet hers again, and she is delighted to see a sparkle there. "That's fine," Jane says softly, and she smiles at him.

"Good," she says, matching his tone. She takes a step forward and raises herself up on tiptoe to brush a kiss against his cheek. Then she steps past him, moving toward the bed.

Lisbon pulls back the covers and gets into bed, extremely aware of the fact that Jane is watching her every move. When her head hits the pillow, she rolls her eyes at him and turns down the comforter on the other side of the bed. "Get over here," she says.

He crosses the room in three long strides and toes off his shoes. She reaches around to turn off the lamp, and the room goes black. She hears the slight rustle of clothing that she takes to be Jane removing his jacket and vest.

The bed dips on the other side.

After a second, she rolls toward him, and his arms encircle her to bring her closer.

Jane tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and meets her eyes. "I, um, it's been a while," he starts. She just watches him in the dark, waiting for him to continue. "You know, since I've tried to…to be with someone. In a relationship. I'm not sure I remember how."

Lisbon considers this. "I'm not sure I ever _learned_ how," she admits. "Maybe you'll be the one to teach me."

"We'll teach each other?" he suggests.

She hums against him. "I like the sound of that."

They are silent for a while, listening to one another breathe, and her mind wanders. She thinks about Charlotte, sound asleep down the hall. And she thinks about Jane, who's been happier today than she ever expected to see him. Her heart skips a beat.

Jane speaks again. "Are you alright?" he asks. "Your pulse just skyrocketed."

Lisbon silently curses but meets his eye. "I'm fine," she says, but of course he doesn't buy it.

"Lisbon."

He pushes himself up so that he is leaning on an elbow, staring down at her.

"What's wrong?"

She threads her fingers through his. "Nothing," she says. "Really. I was just thinking…about how lovely Charlotte is. And…how happy she makes you. I've never seen you so…so _free_." She smiles up at him. "Every time I look at you, or at her, I feel like I'm going to burst into tears because something _finally_ has gone right. For once. And it's beautiful."

He leans down, bringing his face near her own. Her breath catches, and she cannot think. He is too close. Much too close.

His lips are a centimeter from hers when suddenly he freezes, his eyes wide. He hastens to explain. "I—I'm sorry," he stutters. "I want this—you know I do. I just don't want to mess it up. And everything has been happening so fast these past couple days. I…I just…" he trails off.

Lisbon smiles at him. "I'm fine with going slow," she admits. "In fact, I think I'd prefer that." She reaches up to push his hair out of his eyes. "No need for declarations, Jane. We'll figure this out. Together."

He nods and lowers his head to rest on the pillow next to hers. "We may not be ready for declarations, but I want you to know…this is it for me. You _do_ know that, right?"

She rolls to face him, and they are suddenly nose to nose. She nods and places her palm on his cheek.

He grabs her hand and intertwines it with his own, putting it over his heart. He closes his eyes, and she does the same.

She feels his heart thump reassuringly underneath her hand, and its lullaby sings her to sleep.

* * *

"What do you see?"

Charlotte's eyes are closed, but the muscles in her brow knit together as she struggles to recollect a long-lost memory. She's wearing an old pair of Lisbon's jeans and a gray t-shirt, both of which hang slightly on her slender frame. Lisbon makes a note to herself to send Van Pelt to buy Jane's daughter some new clothes, and she smiles, thinking of how Grace will probably purchase the whole mall.

They are back at the CBI. They do, after all, have a case to work—a case which Charlotte happens to be the center of. Cho and Van Pelt are out tracking down leads on another case, and Jane has pulled a chair up to the couch, where he sits across from his daughter. Rigsby watches, entranced, despite the paperwork he's supposed to be filling out, and Lisbon stands slightly behind Jane, wondering if this really was a good idea.

"Nothing," says Charlotte, her tone frustrated.

"It's alright," says Jane quickly, his voice soothing. "It's there, and we'll find it."

Jane originally hadn't wanted to hypnotize his daughter. Lisbon couldn't blame him. Charlotte had come back into his life seemingly unharmed—what would be the point of subjecting her to hypnotism, especially if Red John had planted a suggestion that could trigger something?

But Charlotte had insisted. She wanted her memories back, and, she'd noted, if there was a chance that her memories could help catch the man that had caused her father so much pain, so much the better.

"You hear that?" asks Jane now. Charlotte's brow crinkles. "Something soft. In the distance."

Suddenly, Charlotte nods. "Yeah," she says. "It's…it's a piano. _Prelude in C_."

This frightens Jane, Lisbon can tell, so she takes a step toward him and places her hand on his shoulder. She squats down to his level. "Where do you know that song from?" she whispers in his ear.

He looks at her. "It was the song Angela had been playing for Charlotte, right before…well, before," he murmurs. "And…it was the music playing when I walked into Towland's office—you know, the day Bosco…"

Lisbon remembers. It is not easy to forget, after all, when Red John makes a mistake.

"Did Red John plant this?" she asks.

Jane turns his head back to Charlotte. "Charlotte," he says. "Who's playing the piano?"

Charlotte squeezes her eyes together tighter, as though attempting to clear her vision. "I'm not sure—I don't remember seeing her before."

"'Her'?" asks Lisbon.

"Describe her, Charlotte," says Jane.

"Light brown hair, past her shoulders," Charlotte says. "Brown eyes. Um…freckles, maybe? Yes," she says, more sure. "Freckles."

Jane pushes his chair back, scraping the legs against the floor. Lisbon turns in his direction to see his face has gone ashen.

"Jane?"

He is dumbfounded for a few seconds, but he collects himself, stands up, and takes two long strides toward Charlotte. He touches her shoulder lightly.

Charlotte's eyes flash open. She looks up at her father. "Well?" she says expectantly. "Did it help?"

Jane glances over at Lisbon, a panicked expression on his face, and it hits Lisbon.

 _Angela._

Though she hadn't realized it herself, Charlotte had been describing her mother.

Jane seems to be incapable of speech, so Lisbon answers for him. "How about we talk in my office?" she says. Charlotte gives her a confused look but follows dutifully, and Rigsby has the tact to pretend to be absorbed in his paperwork as they pass him.

Lisbon closes the door behind the three of them and leans against her desk. Jane takes the couch, and Charlotte faces him.

"Well?" she says again, this time with an air of slight impatience.

Jane opens his mouth to speak, but the words don't seem to want to form.

Lisbon steps forward. "Under hypnosis you described a woman playing the piano."

"Yeah," says Charlotte, nodding. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"It does," says Lisbon softly. "To you—and to your father."

Charlotte looks at Jane. "Dad?" she says.

"Brown hair," he manages, his voice raspy, "brown eyes, and freckles." He takes a deep breath. "Your mother."

Now it is Charlotte who is speechless.

"I'll be outside if you need me," whispers Lisbon, and she slips out the door.

* * *

Charlotte sits down beside him on the couch.

"No more hypnotism," Jane says weakly. "I have a gut feeling that wasn't a real memory of yours, though it might have been. More likely, you're remembering what Red John wants you to."

"I'm sorry," Charlotte responds after a few minutes, for lack of a better thing to say.

"I've wanted to say those words to you a thousand times these past ten years," Jane admits. "And even if you'd heard me, I don't think you'd ever grasp how truly sorry I am."

"I think I _do_ know," Charlotte whispers. "I know, and I'm telling you right now—there's nothing to be sorry for. _It wasn't your fault._ "

Jane shrugs. "Maybe," he says. "But that doesn't change the fact that she's not here."

"No, it doesn't," says Charlotte. "But she's _not_ here, and she's not coming back." She sighs. "Maybe it's time to let her go, huh? Learn to live again."

Jane looks over at her, stricken.

Charlotte continues. "I read about you yesterday," she admits. "Found your story on the internet. These past ten years—I can't imagine what you've been through. And I'm horrified. You put yourself through a living hell. _For_ _ten years._ " She breathes in deeply. "If I had died that night, that was the last thing in the world I would have wanted for you. And I can guarantee my mother, whoever she was, would feel exactly the same way."

Charlotte looks out into the bullpen and smiles. "I like this life you have here," she says. "And I feel like I owe Teresa and her team so much. I know they saved you." She pauses before continuing. "But I get the feeling that you're not fully committed to this new life because you're still living as a ghost in your old one. Let it go, or you'll never be able to appreciate what you have here."

Jane leans over to kiss Charlotte's forehead, and a tear escapes from her eye.

* * *

After dinner, Charlotte raids Lisbon's bookshelf and locks herself in the guest bedroom, but not before giving her father a pointed look. Lisbon pretends not to notice and begins to load up the sink with dishes.

Jane comes to stand beside her, drying the dishes she hands to him and putting them away in her cupboards.

"How are you doing?" she asks hesitantly, but before he can answer, a soapy plate slips from her grip and lands in the water, spraying them both. She bursts into laughter.

And suddenly, she is crying, the laughter gone as quickly as it came on, and Jane's hands immediately go to cup her face, tipping her head up so that he can look into her eyes.

"Lisbon?" he asks, concerned. "Lisbon, what's wrong?"

But she can't pull herself together quite yet, so she lets him crush her against him and hold her as she sobs into his chest.

She finally catches her breath and turns her face into the crook of his neck. "You know that I'd do anything to bring Angela back, don't you?" she whispers. "I'd give anything so you could have your family together again."

Jane pulls back to look at her again, and his gaze is sharp and disbelieving. "Lisbon," he says, his voice distraught, and more tears slip out of the corner of her eye.

His lips descend upon hers, and she freezes against him.

Then she kisses him back.

After several long moments, she pulls back slightly, breathless. "What was that for?" she asks, and he holds her face between his hands.

"You are here now," he says firmly. "And Angela is not. Lisbon, _you_ are my now. Please, do not ever doubt that."

"I don't," she says. "I don't doubt that. I just know how much you love her. And I want you to be happy."

"I _am_ happy. _You make me happy_."

She nods.

He pulls her against his chest once more, and the water in the sink becomes cool before they break their embrace.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thanks again for your interest in this story! I'm glad you all seem to be enjoying it so far. Things pick up a bit in this chapter, so be prepared...we're heading into cliffhanger territory. Also, I don't remember much about Angela's backstory (perhaps the show never mentioned it, or - more likely - I'm just forgetting that it was mentioned). At any rate, sorry if the details here aren't consistent with canon.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _Bring on the song_

* * *

"I'm not going to hypnotize you again."

Charlotte pouts at him, and Lisbon watches, amused, as Jane tries not to crumble. Charlotte's already got him wrapped around her finger, and she knows it.

It is Saturday morning, and Lisbon is almost tempted to turn off her phone in case they get called in to a scene. She's enjoying breakfast with Jane and Charlotte far too much to be interrupted by a homicide.

" _Dad_ …" Charlotte says imploringly, her fork hovering over her plate with a piece of scrambled egg perched precariously on it. "What if it's the only way to get my memories back?"

Jane pushes his own plate back, his expression grim, and the atmosphere in the kitchen becomes darker.

"Believe me," he says. "If there's even a chance Red John planted something in your head, you will be better off not trying to remember."

Charlotte puts down her fork. "But what if there's something useful hidden away? Something that could help you catch him?"

Jane leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I don't give a damn about catching Red John anymore," he says evenly. "My first priority now is to protect my family." He glances from Charlotte to Lisbon and back again, and for some reason Lisbon finds herself blushing furiously. She stands up from the table and ducks her head, attempting to hide it, but out of the corner of her eye she catches Charlotte looking at her, her eyes narrowed in a way that tells Lisbon she's missed nothing.

As Lisbon puts her plate in the sink and begins washing the dishes, Charlotte looks back to her father. She sighs, conceding. "Alright," she says. "I guess I can see that."

Jane stands up, grabbing his plate. He leans down to press a kiss to Charlotte's head as he passes her, and Lisbon smiles to herself.

* * *

The day passes too quickly for Jane's liking.

It had been a long time since he felt truly free to enjoy himself, to smile, to laugh. And he'd certainly done more of that today than he'd done in the past ten years. Though they'd gone downtown to begin to put together a wardrobe for Charlotte, his daughter had insisted on picking out outfits for Lisbon to try on as well. Charlotte's taste was impeccable, as Angela's had been, and Lisbon had looked stunning in everything Charlotte had made her model. However, she'd only let him buy one thing for her—a flowing red dress that emphasized her porcelain skin and raven hair. Charlotte, on the other hand, had emerged from the shopping trip with no less than six shopping bags.

Jane can't find it in himself to care at all about the money he's spent.

Though it is only two minutes past ten o'clock, Lisbon is already passed out, curled up on the end of the couch, still wearing the red dress Jane bought for her. Jane grabs the remote control from the coffee table and turns off the television, shifting on the couch to watch her.

"Is she asleep?" comes a whisper from the other side of the room.

Jane twists to look over his shoulder, and Charlotte is at the bottom of the stairs, clad in pajamas, her hair still wet from the shower. Jane nods, and Charlotte moves around the couch, her footsteps silent, to sit down on Jane's other side.

"You alright?" Jane asks.

Charlotte nods. "Yeah," she says. "I just didn't want to ask in front of Teresa."

Jane's brow furrows. "Ask what?"

Charlotte gives him a look.

Jane reads her instantly. He's expected this, after all, from the moment he found out she was his daughter. "You want to know about your mom, and you thought talking about her would make Teresa uncomfortable."

Charlotte shrugs. "Well…yeah. I mean, it's got to be hard enough for her, right? Feeling like she's competing with a ghost?"

Jane looks over at Lisbon, who shifts slightly, and he grabs the blanket from the back of the couch to throw it over her. He turns back to Charlotte.

Charlotte raises an eyebrow. "You did talk to Teresa about that, right?" she asks. "You told her you were going to let Mom go?"

Jane nods.

"What'd she say?" prods Charlotte when he doesn't respond.

Jane sighs. "That she'd give anything to bring Angela back."

Charlotte breathes in deeply, and her eyes are sad. "I hope you had something good to say to that."

This time, Jane smiles. "I did," he says, nodding. Then his expression turns more serious. "What do you want to know about your mom?"

"I don't know," Charlotte says, biting her lip and tucking her feet underneath her. "What's the first thing that comes to mind when you think of her?"

Jane leans his head against the back of the couch and closes his eyes, thinking. "She was my escape," he begins. "We were both carnie kids, and we both _hated_ it. As soon as we were old enough, we left, and we never looked back. My father never spoke to me again, but I had your mom, so it didn't matter."

"That must have been kind of scary. Going out on your own like that."

Jane opens his eyes and turns his head toward Charlotte. "I was terrified," he admits. "I was so scared that I had ruined her life."

"What happened after that?"

"I started booking shows, and I made enough money to send Angela to college. She'd always liked working with children, and she was a natural teacher, so she got an elementary education degree." Jane smiles, lost in thought. "It's funny. She got a job as a kindergarten teacher, and later that same day she found out she was pregnant."

"Did she end up teaching?"

Jane nodded. "Yeah, she did. And she loved it. She was a fantastic teacher—she taught you to read, you know, before you even entered school."

"Sounds like we were both lucky to have her in our lives."

"Yeah. We were."

Lisbon shifts again, and Charlotte takes that as her cue to hug her father and steal out of the room quietly. Jane looks over at Lisbon, and she blinks blearily a couple times before opening her eyes.

Jane smiles down at her. "Hey," he says.

"What time is it?" she asks, still groggy.

"You'd never make it as Cinderella, my dear, if you can't even stay awake until 11."

Lisbon sits up and swats his shoulder playfully. "And some prince you'd make. You're more the damsel in distress than I am."

He bursts out laughing at this. When he eventually quiets, he looks over at Lisbon, his expression intense, and she returns his steely gaze.

"What's bothering you?" she asks quietly.

He looks away, but Lisbon reaches over and places her palm on the side of his face. He turns back toward her.

"Jane," she says.

He sighs. "There's a part of me that wants to help Charlotte get her memories back. I mean, I know I _could_ , and hell—I want her to remember _me_."

"But?"

" _But_ ," Jane says, tilting his head to the side, "I know I can't select which memories to give back to her. If I help her remember her past, it's likely she'll remember _all_ of it."

"Including the years after she was taken from you," says Lisbon.

Jane nods. "For all we know, she could have been abused for a decade, Lisbon. What if she's better off not remembering those years? She seems so healthy now. She seems so happy."

Jane watches as Lisbon thinks this over for a minute before responding. "I think," Lisbon says slowly, "the very fact that she appears healthy means she likely wasn't abused. Jane, when we found her, she had no bruise marks, and her bloodwork showed only slightly elevated levels of stress hormones—and, honestly, I'd be surprised if her stress hormones _weren't_ slightly elevated given that she was out wandering around the middle of the city at 4 AM claiming to have witnessed a murder."

Jane feels the tension in shoulders begin to dissipate as Lisbon continues speaking.

"Look," Lisbon says. "You know the human mind better than anyone. Don't you think that if Charlotte had been abused, she'd be showing some symptoms? Even if her memories are gone, that type of trauma would still manifest somehow, right?"

Jane finally meets her eyes again as he processes her words. She's making a good point, he thinks. "Yes," he says. "Yeah, it would."

Lisbon shifts, leaning into him slightly, and he lifts his arm automatically to rest on her shoulders.

"I think this is a decision you can't make for her, Jane," says Lisbon. "If she wants to remember, she has a right to. She needs to have a say."

Jane takes a deep breath. "What if Red John has messed with her mind somehow?"

"Then wouldn't you want to know? Wouldn't you want to fix it?"

Jane doesn't answer, so Lisbon tries a different approach.

"You can't protect her from everything, Jane," she says softly. "Nor should you try to—because if you shelter her too much, you risk not letting her truly live."

There's a beat of silence, and then without thinking he says, "You're going to be a great mother."

She ducks her head at this, blushing scarlet, and Jane backtracks. "I mean, if that's something you're interested in. You know, ah…someday."

Lisbon looks up at him curiously. "Is that something _you're_ interested in?" she says, her tone bold.

He stutters for a few seconds, not able to form words, and she takes pity on him.

"I, uh, hadn't really thought about it," Lisbon says. "There was never much reason to, to be honest. I was never seriously involved with anyone long enough to discuss it. But…" she trails off, glancing away. "Now that you mention it, I'm kind of falling in love with the idea of a miniature version of your smile."

He can't help himself as the words leave her lips—he frames her face in his hands and kisses her tenderly, smiling against her. After a few seconds, she pulls back slightly to whisper, "So, should I take that as a yes?"

He kisses her again in response.

* * *

They leave at dawn the next morning.

"Where are we going?" asks Charlotte, yawning, as they climb into Lisbon's car.

Lisbon has already pulled onto the street by the time Jane finds words to answer. "Malibu," he says tersely.

Charlotte's forehead crinkles. "What's in Malibu?"

Jane glances at Charlotte through the rearview mirror. "Our house," he says softly. "When I had amnesia a few months ago, that's where Teresa took me to get my memories back. I'm thinking the same will work for you."

Charlotte's eyes widen at this, surprised at her father's complete change of heart since yesterday. A second later, she leans forward to kiss his cheek. "Thank you," she says.

Jane swallows stiffly and nods, and Lisbon can tell he's at a loss for words.

After driving for several hours, Lisbon follows Jane and Charlotte inside the enormous house. Its emptiness is extremely evident, she thinks, with the sounds of their footsteps echoing off the walls.

She is horrified for a second, wondering if Jane is planning to take Charlotte upstairs and show her the room where her mother was murdered. But she breathes a sigh of relief when Jane leads them instead past the stairs and through the house. He ushers them out the back door, and they step out onto the porch.

The smell of the sea immediately overwhelms her, and Lisbon pulls her hair back into a ponytail to prevent the breeze from blowing it everywhere. She can hear the waves crash in the distance, and she smiles a little—this must have been a beautiful place to live.

Jane leads them down the stairs of the patio and onto the pathway down to the seaside. When the white sand opens up in front of Jane and Lisbon, Charlotte bursts past them, sprinting across the beach. Her sandals lay forgotten behind her as she heads for the waves, and she stands ankle-deep in the water, her head tilted up to the sky.

Lisbon hears Jane take a sharp breath beside her, and she glances at him.

"I spent a lot of time wondering what she would look like on this beach," he explains. "You know, all grown up. This all still feels like a dream to me."

They walk forward and sit down on the beach, shoulder to shoulder. Their breathing naturally syncs, and Lisbon kicks off her shoes and socks so that she can dig her toes into the sand. Jane does the same, and Lisbon uses the side of her foot to shovel some sand over Jane's toes, trying to elicit a smile from him. She glances at him shyly out of the corner of her eye. Their feet touch, and his skin is cold. The corner of his mouth twitches.

His shoulder bumps against hers companionably.

After a few minutes, Charlotte glances back at them, and she steps out of the water.

"So," Charlotte says as she approaches. She sits down in front of Jane and mimics his posture. "What now?"

Jane takes a deep breath. "The waves are lovely today, aren't they, Lisbon?" he asks, and Charlotte glances back and forth between them, confused. Jane continues. "Yes, they're lovely. Always present, always soothing. They're constant. In and out. In and out."

His tone is low, and Lisbon knows enough to tune him out or she will find herself becoming sleepy. Jane keeps talking, and eventually Charlotte's eyelids flutter closed, and Jane shifts so that he is sitting on his heels, his shins in the sand.

It takes longer than Lisbon had expected to get the first memories out of Charlotte. Jane's prowess at hypnosis always seems so effortless, so natural, and Lisbon can't remember the last time it took him significant effort to take someone under. But with Charlotte, Jane struggles. For the umpteenth time, Lisbon wonders if it's really possible that Red John has locked Charlotte's memories away.

But why let her remember her mother playing the piano? Does Red John want to taunt her? To taunt Jane? To show her how much she has lost by not being able to remember anything else?

Is that lone memory even real?

Lisbon turns her attention back to Jane, and the struggle continues.

Finally, after fifty-one minutes, he breaks through.

"Listen to the crash of the waves," he says. "Remember when you were here last? The last time we were on this beach together? There was a storm coming, but you wanted to check and see if the crab you'd found was still in the tidal pool? You found the crab, but lightning flashed across the sky, and—"

Charlotte's eyes flash open, the color draining from her face. "—And you picked me up and ran with me the entire way back to the house," she whispers, completing his thought.

Lisbon watches as Charlotte turns pallid. Her green eyes lose focus, and she begins to shiver. Suddenly, Charlotte turns to the side. Lisbon, realizing what's about to happen, lunges forward to pull Charlotte's hair back, and Charlotte vomits onto the sand.

Jane strides over to the water to dampen his handkerchief, and he offers it to Charlotte as Lisbon puts her arm around her shoulders. Despite the heat of late spring, Charlotte feels extremely chilled. Lisbon's grip around her tightens.

Charlotte looks back and forth between Jane and Lisbon, her eyes never quite focusing. Lisbon cradles her in her arms as Jane kneels down in front of his daughter again.

"Charlotte?" he asks, his voice not quite steady. "Charlotte?"

Charlotte closes her eyes and leans into Lisbon. "Nothing makes any sense," she says weakly.

Lisbon sees Jane's jaw tense, and he can't seem to form words.

"I know," Lisbon says. "But we're hoping you can help us with that." She pauses. "Do you know who you are?"

Charlotte nods. "My name is Charlotte Anne Jane," she says, so quietly Lisbon must lean in to hear.

"And who are we?" asks Lisbon.

Charlotte opens her eyes. She looks at Jane. "You're my dad." She turns toward Lisbon. "And you're his best friend," she says softly.

"Good," says Lisbon. "Do you remember how we got here?"

It takes Charlotte a few moments to answer, but she gives another soft reply.

Lisbon continues to quiz her on her recent memories, all of which seem to be intact. Finally, Jane composes himself enough to speak.

"Where were you before you showed up at Sac PD headquarters?"

Two minutes pass before Charlotte can formulate an answer. "Napa," she says firmly. "I was in my bed, at home. I was with my family in Napa. Then...it's all blank until I woke up on the sidewalk next to the body."

Lisbon meets Jane's eye. They'd never found that body. Did that mean they couldn't trust these memories of Charlotte's that Jane has unlocked?

Suddenly, Jane's eyes mist over, and it hits Lisbon. If Charlotte's memories are true, she grew up barely an hour away from her father, who'd never thought he'd see her again.

Jane chooses not to dwell on this point and turns his attention back to Charlotte. "Who raised you?" he asks.

"My adoptive parents. Jay and Adelaine Fairfax."

"Did they call you Charlotte?"

Charlotte nods. "Yes," she whispers. "I was Charlotte. Charlotte Anne Fairfax."

Jane nearly recoils.

Red John had called Charlotte by her real name—at least in part. In a sense, he hadn't taken away Charlotte's identity at all.

 _What a sick joke_ , Lisbon thinks.

 _If Jane doesn't kill the bastard, I might do it for him._


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: What is this? Two updates in one week? Yep, my semester has finished, so I now have some free time to write, and I'm hoping to update more frequently than I have been. So enjoy the chapter - it's my favorite so far!**

 **Also, as always, thanks for reading and reviewing this story. I love reading what you all think!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long_

* * *

A few more questions reveal all of Charlotte's memories have apparently been returned to her. She remembers her father carrying her on his hip into the ER after Angela broke her collarbone. She remembers the song she danced to at her first ballet recital. She remembers Jane's words to her, spoken every night as he tucked her into bed.

 _"You are safe, you are loved, and you are wise."_

And most important, she remembers who she is.

Charlotte's eyes finally come into focus, and she stares at Jane.

"You look…" she begins, raking her eyes over him. "You look like you've lived a lifetime since I last saw you."

Jane nods. "You could say that." His eyes become sad. "What did they tell you?" he asks, his voice low and barely controlled. "They would have had to have told you something to explain your where your parents had gone."

Charlotte slumps against Lisbon, her energy spent. Lisbon holds her upright.

"When I was Charlotte Fairfax, I had no memory of my birth parents," Charlotte murmurs. "My adoptive parents—they said they were my godparents—they told me that my biological parents died in a car crash, that I'd injured my head in the crash. They said I would always have memory issues."

Jane nods, his jaw tight. _And she was too young to question them._ "Let's get out of here," Jane says, reaching for Charlotte and gathering her in his arms.

With a strength that surprises Lisbon, Jane stands up with Charlotte tucked securely against his chest, his arms underneath her knees and back, and he begins to lead them back up the beach toward the patio. Lisbon grabs Charlotte's discarded sandals and chases after him.

They walk through the house again, and Lisbon snags Jane's keys from his pocket to lock up behind them. As they walk down the driveway, Charlotte's head drops on Jane's shoulder, and her eyes close.

Lisbon opens the door to the backseat of the car, and Jane leans over to deposit Charlotte inside. He buckles her in and shrugs out of his suit jacket, stuffing it behind her head for a makeshift pillow. Before he shuts the door, Lisbon stops him. She pulls off her own light jacket and throws it over Charlotte's bare legs, noticing that the teenager is still covered in goosebumps.

Jane shuts the door and turns to Lisbon.

"Napa," he says quietly.

"I know," says Lisbon.

"She was _so close_ ," breathes Jane. "All this time… _damn it_." His hands shake.

Lisbon just nods.

They stand there in the driveway for a few seconds, neither speaking. Finally, Lisbon looks up at him.

"When Charlotte was taken from you, she was old enough to know who she was," Lisbon says. "Red John erased her memories so she wouldn't go looking for you, didn't he?"

"Yes," says Jane, looking lost. "If he used hypnosis, he could have locked away her memories of Angela and I, which explains why I was able to unlock them just now. I essentially gave her back two sets of memories—those from her childhood with me, and those from her childhood with the Fairfaxes."

"And the last name—Fairfax," says Lisbon. "It's not a coincidence, is it?"

"No, not a coincidence," Jane says. "Jane Eyre falls in love with a man named Edward _Fairfax_ Rochester," Jane says, confirming Lisbon's suspicions.

" _Jane Eyre_ was your wife's favorite book," says Lisbon, nodding.

Jane nods. "Red John couldn't have known about that," he says. "He _shouldn't_ have known about that. But somehow, he did." He runs both hands over his face and through his hair in agitation. "Is there anything in my life that he hasn't tainted somehow?"

Lisbon steps forward and moves his hands from his head to her hips. She leans forward, close enough that she can feel his breath on her lips.

"This," she says, holding his gaze. "He cannot taint this." She kisses him lightly, pulls back, then kisses him again. "What you have with your daughter—he can't touch that. And what we have—this little family unit we're creating—he can't take that away. Don't let him, Jane."

His arms wrap around her waist, holding her against him, and he ducks his head into the crook of her neck. Lisbon's hand immediately comes up to stroke the back of his head.

After a couple minutes, Lisbon speaks. "I need to tell the others," she says. "I'll have Van Pelt look up Jay and Adelaine Fairfax. If they haven't disappeared, Cho will bring them in. You want to drive?"

Jane doesn't answer, but he disentangles himself from her and takes the keys she offers him.

Five minutes later, they are on the road, heading toward the interstate with Charlotte still sound asleep in the backseat.

Van Pelt picks up on the first ring, and Lisbon explains to her the lead Charlotte has given them. After a few minutes, Van Pelt locates information on her computer on Charlotte's adoptive parents.

"Unless Red John got to them recently," Van Pelt says, "they should still be in Napa. The husband is a recently retired professor; the wife's a physician."

Lisbon can hear the sound of Van Pelt typing away on her computer in the background.

"Boss, do you want Rigsby and I to pick them up?"

Lisbon breathes in deeply. "Yeah, but take Cho with you as well. For all we know, Jay Fairfax _is_ Red John. At the very least, these two are associated with him, and that makes them dangerous. It'll be a while until we can meet you—Jane and I are driving back from Malibu with Charlotte."

"Everything alright?" asks Van Pelt.

"For now," says Lisbon. "We'll fill you in when we see you. Just focus on tracking down the Fairfaxes."

"You got it, Boss," says Van Pelt, and she disconnects the call.

Lisbon looks over at Jane. "You think they'll still be in Napa?"

Jane glances back at her. "I have no idea. It depends on whether or not Red John wants us to find them."

"You don't think Jay Fairfax is Red John."

"Call it wishful thinking, but I'm praying to every power that may be in this universe that Red John did not raise my daughter these past ten years."

Lisbon shivers.

"Even if he was involved," Jane continues, "I'm praying it was mostly a superficial influence—hopefully the Fairfaxes were her main caregivers."

Lisbon reaches over to cover his hand with her own. He flips his hand over on the console between them so that his palm is facing up, and her palm rests against his. He intertwines their fingers.

"What the hell is he planning?" he whispers.

Lisbon has no answer.

* * *

Two hours later, Lisbon's cell phone rings. Charlotte stirs, and Jane glances worriedly in the rearview mirror.

"Cho?" asks Lisbon.

He answers her without preamble. "We've got them, Lisbon. Jay and Adelaine Fairfax."

Lisbon catches Jane's eye. _They're in custody_ , she mouths. She can't tell if he is relieved or not. "That's good news," she says into the phone.

The silence on the other end of the call is foreboding. "Cho?" Lisbon says. "What is it?"

Cho sighs, and Lisbon can picture him pacing around the bullpen, dragging a hand through his hair in irritation. "It was too easy. Too clean. I got the feeling they knew we were coming."

Lisbon's eyes narrow. "If that's so, why not hide? Why not run? Why let us catch them?"

"If they're with Red John, it's because he told them to," says Cho. "No other reason."

"Have they given you anything useful yet?"

Lisbon can practically feel Cho's frustration as he speaks. "No," he says tersely. "They haven't spoken a word at all."

"Not even to ask for a lawyer?"

"Nope."

Lisbon looks over at Jane. He stares at her, his gaze steely.

"Tell Cho I'll be there as soon as I can," he says.

* * *

Jane refuses to bring Charlotte anywhere near the Fairfaxes. Lisbon agrees, so instead of heading to the CBI, Jane takes them back to Lisbon's condo.

It is already dark by the time they arrive. Jane walks them inside, the tension evident in the set of his shoulders. Charlotte lays down on the couch, still looking unwell despite getting a couple of hours' rest on the way home, and glances up at her father.

"Where are you going?" she asks, noticing that he hasn't taken off his shoes yet.

Jane gives her a half-truth. "Cho needs my help with something at the CBI," he says. "Apparently it's urgent. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Lisbon makes an attempt to smile. "You better be," she says. "For dinner we're having my specialty—delivery pizza."

Jane smiles at this. "Comfort food definitely sounds amazing right now," he says, walking over to Charlotte. He grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and throws it over her. "I might not be back before you head off to bed," he says quietly. "So, just in case…" He leans down to kiss her forehead. "You are safe, you are loved, and you are wise."

Charlotte smiles up at him. "Night, Dad," she says.

"Goodnight, Starlight," he says, and Lisbon marvels at how easily he's slipped back into being a father.

"It's been a long time since someone called me that," says Charlotte softly.

"Ten years," confirms Jane, and he kisses her forehead again. "So I've got to start making up for lost time."

Charlotte closes her eyes, and Jane steps away. He moves around the furniture and heads to the front door, to where Lisbon is still standing.

Jane gives her a particular smile. "I hope I'll be back before your bedtime," he whispers in her ear. His tone is more playful than she's ever heard from him.

"You planning something?" she asks in a similar tone, a grin spreading across her face.

The furtive touch of his clever fingers on the skin under her blouse is all the answer she needs.

He leans in to kiss her chastely.

"See you soon," he breathes, and he is gone.

* * *

Lisbon walks back into the living room after placing the order for delivery, and Charlotte tucks her feet underneath her, making room for Lisbon on the end of the couch.

"How are you feeling?" says Lisbon hesitantly. She doesn't interact often with Jane's daughter without him present, and she wishes suddenly she had the same parental instincts he seems to be blessed with. How does he always know exactly what to say to Charlotte?

Charlotte shrugs. "Everything is hazy. It's like someone else lived those memories or something. Nothing feels real."

Lisbon slips her feet underneath the blanket covering Charlotte. "We tracked down the people who raised you. Your dad is going to question them now."

"That explains why he looked so upset," says Charlotte.

"Yeah," says Lisbon, not quite sure what to say.

Eventually Charlotte speaks again. "What can I do to help him?"

Lisbon holds her gaze. When Charlotte's determined expression doesn't waver, Lisbon concedes. "Is there anything strange you remember about your childhood?" she asks. "Did your adoptive parents act in any way that made you uncomfortable? Or did they have any friends who just seemed…off somehow?"

Charlotte ponders this. "To be honest," she admits, "I didn't spend a lot of time with them. They both worked a lot. Adelaine was a surgeon, so she had weird hours…and Jay was absorbed in his research. I'm not sure they had a lot of friends—they worked too much and didn't really have time for anything else."

"What was your adoptive father's research about?"

Charlotte rolls her eyes. "He was a psychologist. He studied psychogenic pain—you know, physical pain that's emotional in origin."

Lisbon tilts her head to the side. "So he was interested in how emotions cause pain?"

"He didn't talk much about it, but when he did...well, it always seemed a bit morbid to me," says Charlotte.

"How so?"

Charlotte sighs. "I don't know. Seems to me like a psychologist should attempt to figure out what causes certain types of pain in order to eliminate that pain. He never really appeared to want to do that."

Lisbon shifts slightly against the back of the couch. "You think he was interested in learning about causes of pain..."

"…in order to cause _more_ pain, not eliminate it. Yeah." Charlotte sighs again. "Anyway, it was just a feeling. Like I said, it's not like he really talked about his research at home, so I can't be sure."

Lisbon decides to steer the conversation toward lighter topics. "Is there anyone who you need to contact? Friends who might be worried about you?"

"Oh," says Charlotte, her eyes widening. "I've been so out of it…"

"What's wrong?"

"William. My best friend since middle school. He worries when I'm three minutes late for class—I can't imagine what he's been going through these past few days."

Lisbon smiles. "Sounds like a good kid."

"Will's all I have, really," says Charlotte. "We don't really hang out with other people because we don't really fit in anywhere. But Will's more than enough."

She doesn't seem upset by this, Lisbon notes, and Lisbon can relate. She herself only had one or two really good friends in high school, and now she only spends time with her CBI team.

Lisbon digs her cell phone out of her jacket. "You have his number memorized?" she asks. Charlotte nods, and Lisbon hands her the phone. "I know you trust him," Lisbon says, "but you can't tell him where you are. For now, anyway. We need to know more about what we're facing before we decide if it's safe for you to start living a normal life again."

Charlotte nods. "I understand. He will, too. He'll just be happy to know I'm safe."

Lisbon stands up from the couch and heads into the kitchen, leaving Charlotte to make her phone call. Lisbon leans against the counter, the weight of the gun on her hip feeling heavier than normal.

"Will—it's me," comes Charlotte's voice from the other room. There's a pause, and Charlotte begins speaking again. "I'm okay, _I'm okay_. Will, listen—I'm fine." Charlotte sighs. "I'm sorry. In my defense, there's been a lot going on recently. Geez, how do I even begin to tell you this? I don't think you'll believe me. Hell, _I_ wouldn't believe me…"

Lisbon chuckles silently and listens to Charlotte explain her situation—and her real identity—to Will.

"I found my dad," Charlotte eventually whispers, and Lisbon can barely hear her. "My real dad. Yeah, our DNA matched." Another pause. "I know that's what they told me, but they were lying. My real parents didn't die in a car crash. My dad's alive." Silence fills the room for a few seconds. "I can't wait for you to meet him, Will. He's awesome. He's perfect. Even better than what I dreamed he would be like."

Lisbon can't help the grin that crosses her face. She debates telling Jane about this phone call, knowing he would be thrilled to hear how Charlotte talked about him, but she decides against it. Charlotte should be allowed to have some semblance of a private life, after all.

The doorbell rings, and Lisbon is still smiling as she grabs her purse to go pay for the pizza.

* * *

The elevator dings, and as soon as the doors open Jane is striding towards the bullpen. Van Pelt stands up from her desk the moment she sees him.

"How's Charlotte doing?" she asks.

"Her memory seems fully intact," says Jane as Cho and Rigsby approach from down the hallway. "She seems to be holding up…remarkably well."

Van Pelt leans in to give Jane a hug. "I'm glad," she says. She steps away. "We're going to track him down, Jane. I promise."

Jane nods, lost for words, and Cho steps forward.

"I think you'll want to talk with the husband first," he says. His tone is sure, and Jane doesn't doubt him.

"Lead the way," Jane says, gesturing with his hand, and he follows Cho and Rigsby down the hall to interrogation.

Adelaine Fairfax is in the first room. Jane spares a second to read her.

The woman's hair has been bleached and straightened so many times that the strands are breaking, her split ends obvious even at a distance of several feet. Adelaine, sitting calmly at the table, appears a few years over fifty but wears clothes more fitting for someone just past forty: a pencil skirt that is a few inches too short paired with a blue blouse that cuts a few inches too deep. She may have been pretty once, Jane thinks, but too many plastic surgeries precluded that long ago.

Jane walks past the first interrogation room, moving toward the second.

He ducks into observation this time.

Jay Fairfax has his eyes closed, his fingers interlocked behind his head, and his legs stretched out under the table. Even sitting down, he seems tall, and Jane watches as he breathes in slowly and evenly. Jane has seen this picture-perfect vision of calm before—each time when he was dealing with a disciple of Red John.

As if he feels Jane's gaze, Jay's eyes open lazily. The corner of his mouth twitches up in a sardonic smile.

"You were right," Jane says to Cho, who stands in the doorway. Cho steps aside for Jane to pass him, and Jane opens the door to interrogation, knowing that Rigsby will join Cho in watching from observation.

"I'm honored," says Jay as Jane enters.

Jane sits down before replying. He leans forward slightly. "Can't say I feel the same."

Jay chuckles, and he folds his arms across his chest nonchalantly.

"How do you know who I am?" Jane asks.

There's a beat of silence.

"Your daughter has your eyes."

Jane's veins heat up, threatening to boil over. He hears Lisbon's voice in his mind, telling him to keep it together.

"If my being alive is not a surprise to you, why did you keep my daughter hidden from me all these years?"

"I was following orders."

Jane's eyes narrow. "Whose orders?"

Jay scoffs. "You know who."

"I need a name," says Jane, leaning forward again. The words come out with a slight hiss.

"A name isn't going to help you."

Jane's eyes narrow as he ponders how best to respond. "I don't think that's for you to decide," he says eventually. "You've already admitted that you've been playing some sick game of house with my daughter for the past decade. A name isn't going to make your case any worse. It would only help you, actually, if you wanted to make a deal."

Jay chuckles. "You're just not getting it, are you?"

Jane stares at him, incredulous. "Please, then, spell it out for me."

Jay leans forward and folds his hands together. "Alright," he says, with the air of playing nice. "I'll give you a couple hints." He smiles. "I don't care about getting out of here. Neither does my wife. You're wasting your time trying to get information out of us."

"And yet I haven't had a problem getting you to talk," Jane points out.

Jay holds his stare. "Part of the plan," he says.

Jane's blood stops boiling. He feels a chill settle over him instead. "And the other hint?"

Jay smiles. "Those who don't learn from history are destined to repeat it."

The cold becomes ice, and Jane feels his insides freeze over. He stands up quickly, feeling faint.

 _No._

 _Surely not._

Jane's mind flashes to Charlotte and to Lisbon. The room spins.

 _This cannot be happening._

 _Not again._

"Figured it out, have you?"

Jane tears his gaze away from the psychopath sitting across from him, and he takes two long strides to escape the claustrophobia that threatens to overwhelm him in the interrogation room.

He's been so worried with trying to protect Charlotte he hasn't even considered that Red John may have something else in mind—that he may have _someone_ else in mind as well.

And Jane has been blindsided.

 _Those who don't learn from history are destined to repeat it._

The words echo in his mind over and over.

 _Charlotte._

 _Lisbon._

Jane once lost his daughter and the woman he loved most in the world at the hands of a serial killer.

He once lost his family.

And he is going to lose them all over again.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Sorry about the cliffhanger from last chapter, but I'm offering an extra-long installment to make up for it. Hope you enjoy it, and thanks for reading and for your comments!**

 **Just a warning: this is kind of dark. If that stuff makes you uncomfortable, it might be best to skip the last two sections of this chapter.**

 **I took a lot of creative liberties regarding the science in this chapter, especially with the second to last section, but hey - that's why they call it fanfiction :)**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _I fell through the cracks at the end of our street_

* * *

Lisbon hesitates with her hand on the doorknob. Instead of opening the door right away, she shifts so that she can look through the peephole.

She lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

A young man, probably college-aged, stands on her doorstep, holding a pizza box with one hand and looking impatient. Lisbon grips the handle of the door again, tighter this time.

She does a double take.

The delivery man's other hand is underneath his jacket near his hip.

Lisbon blinks. That pose is all too familiar to her.

 _He has a gun_ , she realizes.

Without a sound, Lisbon turns and sprints down the hallway, drawing her gun as she moves. She bursts into the living room, and Charlotte stops talking mid-sentence, Lisbon's phone still pressed to her ear.

Lisbon stares at Charlotte, communicating with her through a single look—as she often does with Jane.

"Will," whispers Charlotte into the phone. Her next words are rushed. "My dad works for the California Bureau of Investigation. His name is Patrick Jane—I need you to contact him and tell him whatever you hear next."

Lisbon nods, impressed with Charlotte's quick thinking.

There is a loud _bang_ as Lisbon's front door bursts open. Lisbon whirls around and begins firing. The faux delivery man is immediately hit, and he falls over, his gun toppling out of his hand.

The window shatters.

A grenade rolls across the floor, and Lisbon looks up to meet Charlotte's eyes with an expression of horror.

The grenade explodes.

Lisbon feels as though the center of the sun has swallowed her up, and she is thrown backwards, her body slamming against the wall. The light and noise is overwhelming. She can't see, she can't hear, she can't think.

But she can feel.

And her heart breaks for Jane.

She slumps to the floor and passes out, Charlotte's name on her lips.

* * *

Jane reaches for his cell phone and hits the first number on speed dial.

Three rings, and the call goes to Lisbon's voicemail.

" _Damn it!_ " he says, turning toward the wall. He lowers his head against it and slaps the bricks with his forearms and fist.

Cho appears by his side, and Jane looks up. "We need to get to Lisbon's condo," he says, his voice breaking on her name.

Cho nods.

They both try not to think of what they will find there.

* * *

The door to the condo is open, and Jane races inside. He trips over the body of the faux delivery man, sparing him hardly a glance.

The hallway opens up into the living room, and Jane has to close his eyes.

Red John's mark is painted over Lisbon's couch, directly over the spot where Jane had just left Charlotte. Jane takes a deep breath and opens his eyes again. He scans the room but finds no more bodies.

His breathing is ragged as he sprints throughout the condo, searching all the rooms. Cho and Rigsby find him in Lisbon's bedroom. Jane doesn't turn around, instead choosing to remain facing the bed.

"They're not here," he says in disbelief.

He turns around.

Cho steps forward. "There's no sign that either Charlotte or Lisbon were injured," he says. "In fact, it actually looks like the blood that was used on Red John's mark was from the delivery man. There are three bullets in his chest—I'd bet they're all from Lisbon's weapon."

"They won't go down without a fight, Jane," says Rigsby. "And that will give us time to find them."

Jane nods tersely, not quite able to form words.

"We should look around," he finally says. "See if we can find anything useful."

They head back downstairs. Rigsby kneels over the body, Cho gravitates toward what is left of what appears to be a grenade in the center of the living room, and Jane stares at the blood painted on the wall.

Police sirens howl in the distance.

"Stun grenade," grunts Cho. He points to the shattered remains of Lisbon's front window. "They would have tossed it through here—Lisbon and Charlotte wouldn't have had a chance. These things explode in seconds, and they're designed to mess with the photoreceptors in your eyes and the fluids in your ears. They paralyze victims through disorientation."

Jane feels faint again at these words and takes a seat on the couch. His phone vibrates, and he digs it out of his pocket to see Van Pelt's name on the caller ID.

"Hi Grace," says Jane, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Jane," she says, and he can feel the electricity in her voice—she has a lead. "I just got a message from the CBI call center. They said someone was asking for you."

"Did they leave a number?" asks Jane. He shifts, and he feels a thin object come into contact with his outer thigh. He digs his hand between the cushions, and his fingers close down upon Lisbon's cell phone.

Van Pelt reads him the number as Jane enters Lisbon's password then looks at her recent calls.

"Grace," he says suddenly. "That number you just read me—the last outgoing call from Lisbon's phone was made to the same phone."

Van Pelt hits a few keys on her computer. "The number belongs to William Donovan," she says. "He's sixteen years old, and he lives in Napa."

Jane makes the connection. "He knew Charlotte," he says. "I'll call you back in a minute, Grace." Jane hits the redial key on Lisbon's phone.

William picks up on the first ring. "Hello?"

"William," says Jane, trying to keep his voice even. "My name is Patrick Jane. I believe you knew my daughter, Charlotte?"

"Is she alright?" asks William hurriedly. "Do you know what happened to her?"

"I was hoping you could help with that," says Jane in a low tone. Rigsby and Cho are now staring at him curiously. "The last time you received a call from this number, what did you hear?"

William takes a deep breath. "Charlotte called me to let me know she was alright," he begins. "Then all of the sudden, she stopped talking. A second later, she told me your name. She told me to tell you what I heard."

Jane is intensely aware of the pumping of his heart, the blood pulsing through his veins.

"There was an explosion," says William. "To be honest, I'm surprised it didn't destroy the phone. But I could still vaguely hear what was going on. There were at least three distinct male voices, maybe more—I don't know for sure."

"What did they say?"

"The first two voices yelled out the word 'clear'—like in the movies when the cops are searching a place. The next person asked for zip ties."

Jane realizes his hand is shaking, making the phone quiver beside his ear.

"And then?"

William takes a deep breath. "There was the sound of a woman yelling out for Charlotte. It sounded like—like they were taking Charlotte from her, whoever she was. And after that I couldn't make anything out. Just shuffling and grunts. It sounded like a struggle was taking place."

Jane closes his eyes and bites his lip, trying to compose himself.

"Mr. Jane?" comes the voice at the other end of the line. "Mr. Jane—what happened? Is Charlotte okay? Is she safe?"

Jane's eyes stay closed as he answers. "I don't know," he says weakly. "But we're doing everything we can to find out."

"What can I do?"

Jane's eyes flash open.

The desperation in William's voice is eerily familiar, and Jane quickly discerns the reason why.

 _William loves Charlotte_ , he realizes. Jane's heart, though already broken, fractures a bit more at this.

"Is there anything else you can think of?" asks Jane. "Anything odd or out of place that comes to mind? Not just about the phone call. Think about any time you were with her. Did you have any strange interactions with adults? Anything at all out of the ordinary?"

William takes a while to answer. "I'm sorry," he says. "I'm just drawing a huge blank. I can't think of anything."

"Can I speak with your parents?" Jane asks. He checks his watch and notices that it's past eleven. "Are they awake?"

"Yeah," says William. "When I got the call from Charlotte, I told them. I didn't know what else to do. I had to do _something_ to help her."

Jane is suddenly grateful that this young man is Charlotte's friend.

"We will find her," Jane promises emphatically. "I swear we will. And I'll call you as soon as we do."

Someone says something on the other end of the line, but Jane can't make out the words, and the phone is taken from William. A female voice speaks.

"Hello?"

"Hi," says Jane softly. "My name is Patrick Jane. Your son is friends with my daughter."

There's a pause before William's mother answers. "Yes. She's…she's a lovely girl. William is lucky to have her. _We're_ lucky to have her in our lives."

Jane cannot find words to respond to this. Instead, he says, "I'm a consultant for the California Bureau of Investigation. We're looking into my daughter's disappearance, and I need to ask you—is there anything you can tell us about her life that seems odd? Anything out of the ordinary?"

She answers right away. "I don't care much for her godparents," she says.

"Why?"

"Call it a mother's intuition, but they're a little off somehow. They never call to check on her if she breaks curfew, they leave her alone for days on end—sometimes for as long as two weeks. I get so worried about her that I invite her over to stay with us when that happens."

The vice-like grip that has paralyzed Jane's heart loosens a bit. Call it a father's intuition, he thinks, but even after only talking with William's family for a few minutes he knows that Charlotte was loved the years she grew up in Napa.

"Anything else?" Jane asks.

"Yes," says William's mother. "There were rumors…there were rumors about the Fairfaxes."

Jane waits for her to elaborate.

"The gist of it is that they were probably involved in some nasty stuff," she says. "One of those ultra-radical, new-agey groups. And _that_ was the reason they left your daughter alone so often. When they were supposedly working overtime, or taking extended business trips, they were involved in, for lack of a better word, a cult."

Jane takes a deep breath. "Do you know the name of the cult?"

"No," says William's mother. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," says Jane. He's fairly certain he knows who is involved regardless. "I'm sorry—I didn't catch your name."

"Melody—I'm Melody Donovan. You'll call us with any news, right? William is beside himself." She whispers the last bit, as though William is still in the room and she doesn't want him to overhear.

"Yes, of course," says Jane. "When all this is over, I'm sure Charlotte will want to see you. And I want to meet your family and thank you in person for what you've done for my daughter."

"It was our privilege," says Melody, and Jane can hear her get choked up.

He ends the call.

* * *

"Teresa! _Teresa!_ "

Lisbon tries to take a deep breath. She opens her eyes.

Even those small movements send shockwaves of pain coursing through her body. She realizes belatedly that someone is standing over her, a thick mane of blonde hair obscuring her vision.

"Teresa, are you alright?"

Lisbon tries again to breathe deeply, but a coughing fit overwhelms her, and she has difficulty catching her breath. Charlotte's face comes into focus, her features contorted with worry.

"For now," Lisbon whispers. She closes her eyes for a few seconds in an attempt to pull herself together. "What happened?"

Charlotte's hands move to grab one of Lisbon's, and Lisbon squeezes tightly. "I'm not sure," says Charlotte. "There was an explosion, and then I woke up here about an hour ago."

Lisbon opens her eyes. "Where is here, exactly?"

"No idea," says Charlotte. "A basement somewhere. No windows, and the only door out of here is locked."

Lisbon grabs Charlotte's forearm. "Help me sit up?"

Charlotte nods and shifts so that she can support Lisbon's back with her hands. Lisbon moans at the movement, but after a few seconds she is sitting upright. She leans against the wall, breathing heavily.

Lisbon looks around the room. It's small, about the size of a typical hotel room. The walls are made entirely of concrete, as is the floor. A slightly rusted metal door stands to their left.

Lisbon takes another deep breath and begins to cough again. Charlotte gives her a concerned look.

"You sure you're alright?"

"Never better," says Lisbon. She reaches out to grab Charlotte's hand again. "I'm sorry," she says. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I promised your father I would protect you."

Charlotte looks at her determinedly. "Well, you're here now, right? So you haven't broken your promise."

"When we get out of this, he's never going to let you out of his sight again," says Lisbon.

Charlotte almost smiles. "The same is going to be true for you too, you know," she says sadly.

Lisbon leans her head against the wall. Talking has left her out of breath, and she feels like her lungs are struggling to keep up. "We have to get back to him," she whispers. "Can you tell me anything about the people who took us?"

"There were multiple men in your condo. They tied our wrists before I lost consciousness."

Lisbon looks to the floor, where she finds two broken zip ties.

"You know how to break zip ties?" she asks, impressed.

"Will taught me a lot about self-defense," says Charlotte.

"Remind me to thank him when we get out of here," says Lisbon with a smile. "So, to summarize, we know there was more than one person involved, the attack was clearly premeditated, and they used a stun grenade and zip ties."

"What does that tell you?"

Lisbon sighs. "These people are trained—they clearly know what they're doing. Some may even have military backgrounds."

"That doesn't bode well for us," says Charlotte.

"We're going to be fine," says Lisbon, though she doesn't entirely believe it. Charlotte reads her instantly but doesn't call her out on the lie. Instead, she sits down next to Lisbon.

Lisbon lifts her arm to wrap around Charlotte.

"We'll be fine," she whispers again.

* * *

The police show up just as Jane ends his call with the Donovans. Besides handing over Lisbon's phone to be placed in evidence bags, Jane ignores them. Instead, he reaches for his own phone and dials a number from memory.

Three rings pass before the man on the other end picks up.

"Patrick," says a slurred voice, sounding as though he'd just been roused from sleep. "To what do I owe this very late pleasure?"

"I need a favor, Bret," says Jane quietly.

"Ah," says Stiles, interested. He's clearly awake now. "I am very eager to no longer be indebted to you, Patrick. How can I help?"

"Lisbon and my daughter have been taken," says Jane. He starts pacing around the room, and Rigsby sends him a worried glance. Jane waves him off. "You heard about my daughter, I presume?"

"Yes," says Stiles. "I was pleased to hear she had been returned to you."

"Well, it appears the very reason she was returned was to take her away again. And to take Lisbon as well."

"I am sorry, Patrick. Deeply sorry. But how can I help you?"

Jane wastes no time in getting to the point. "Were Charlotte's adoptive parents members of Visualize?"

"I'm going to need names, Patrick."

"Jay and Adelaine Fairfax."

There's a pause, as though Stiles is mulling this over. "The names are not familiar to me," he finally says.

Jane gives a sharp laugh. "Oh, come on, Bret. I have reason to believe they were members of a cult. You have to have heard of them."

This time, it is Stiles who chuckles. "Visualize does not have a monopoly on cults in California, Patrick," he says in a patronizing tone.

"I realize that," says Jane. "But, really, when you balance the probabilities…"

Stiles sighs. "You did me an immense favor, Patrick, so I feel obliged to do the same for you." He pauses. "There was a group—say, five individuals—involved in Visualize many years ago. They were particularly drawn to certain aspects of our dogma, such as our conditioning techniques. Eventually we discovered these individuals were using our techniques in ways we had not intended—that is, they were trying to brainwash simpler-minded followers. We immediately forced them out of the organization. Unfortunately," Stiles continues, "this didn't stop them. These individuals broke from us and formed a new group in response. This is, I imagine, the cult to which you refer."

"Give me their names, Bret," says Jane, in such a harsh tone that Cho turns around to look at him in interest.

With another sigh, Stiles rattles off five names.

* * *

The sound of metal upon metal screeches throughout the room, and both Lisbon and Charlotte look up. The door opens, and a redheaded woman dressed in a long, flowing skirt and a shawl walks in.

Lisbon blinks at her. "Kristina?" she asks. Or, at least, she tries to ask the question, but the words get lost in her throat.

"Teresa," says Kristina. She walks across the room and stops just in front of them. "It's good to see you."

"Yeah, it's been a while," snaps Lisbon, annoyed by Kristina's tone, which suggests that meeting like this is simply happenstance. "What the hell is going on, Kristina? The last I'd heard, you were locked away in a mental facility, worse than dead."

Kristina smiles, and Lisbon feels Charlotte tense beside her. "To be honest, I'm surprised you and Patrick believed that," she says.

"You were faking it? The séance that Jane put on—that was nothing but a show to you?"

Kristina shrugs. "I learned a lot about showmanship from Patrick. I decided it was time to try it out."

"Why?"

"Red John needed me. And I needed a reason to disappear that would stop Patrick from looking for me."

"You weren't in the hospital all these years?"

"Of course not. If you'd bothered to follow up, you might have figured that out."

Lisbon takes a shaky breath. "What do you want from us?" she asks quietly, her arm tightening around Charlotte.

"You and Patrick are getting too close to Red John," says Kristina.

"Oh, well, in that case I'll just back off then," says Lisbon acerbically.

Kristina ignores this. "We cannot allow Red John to fall," she says. "His work must continue."

Lisbon wonders at the use of the pronoun 'we' but decides to let it go. "And how exactly did you become one of Red John's disciples, Kristina? I mean, Jane always thought you were mad, but I'm guessing he had no idea how right he was."

Kristina drops to one knee in front of Lisbon. "This is so much bigger than you realize, Teresa. If only you knew, you might understand. But Patrick has probably brainwashed you beyond repair at this point—your mind is not open to receive the truth." She touches Lisbon's face, and Lisbon has to fight the urge to recoil. "Without darkness, there is no light. Without death, there is no life. Red John is light; he is life."

Lisbon holds her gaze. "What do you want from us?" she asks again.

Kristina stands up. "Patrick Jane is a threat. A threat that must be eliminated," she says brusquely. "For the most part, Patrick is infallible." She smiles. "Except, it seems, in matters of the heart."

Charlotte is shaking now, and Lisbon pulls her closer.

"It is his heart, then, that we must target to remove the threat. And, as it so happens, he has given his heart to the two of you." Kristina's gaze shifts from Lisbon to Charlotte. "You're first, my dear," she says, holding out her hand as though expecting Charlotte will take it. Charlotte eyes her warily.

"'First'?" asks Charlotte.

"You're the first message," says Kristina. "We've got the adjacent room all set up to record a video for Patrick. There are three men outside who will help move you if you refuse."

Lisbon's heart sinks. Whatever Kristina has in mind, Lisbon has a feeling she does not plan on letting Charlotte survive this time around.

" _No!_ " says Lisbon in a rough voice, and she begins to cough again. She stands up quickly, despite the pang in her lungs, to look Kristina in the eye. "I'll go first. Take me first."

Kristina takes in Lisbon's protective stance over Charlotte and must conclude that fighting her on this would be more trouble than it's worth. She nods.

"Alright, Teresa. Follow me."

Lisbon drops down to reach for Charlotte, enveloping her in a bear hug. "Don't listen, okay? Think about your father, and your mother—think about that time you were all together on the beach looking for that crab, alright? Get your mind away from here."

Charlotte nods, and Lisbon feels her trembling intensify.

Lisbon presses a kiss to Charlotte's forehead, gives her one last glance, and then follows Kristina out of the room.

* * *

The metal door swings shut behind them with a _thud_ , and Lisbon immediately notices the presence of three armed guards in the hallway. She doesn't spare them a glance other than to note their military postures. However, her heart sinks as she realizes the likelihood of escaping is near zero.

If she were alone, perhaps she would try something. But she has Charlotte to look after, and she won't risk the life of Jane's daughter for anything.

So Lisbon follows Kristina down the hall and through another rusted metal door. The room that opens up in front of her is larger than the one she had just vacated but every bit as plain, with more concrete walls and floors. It is more brightly lit than the other room, and the light causes Lisbon to squint.

This room, however, has five chairs. Four of them are already occupied and are spread out in a semilunar formation, all facing the middle of the room, where the final chair rests.

Lisbon scans her surroundings. Her vision fades in and out, her blood rushing abnormally fast through her veins, as she takes in the group of people.

Ray Haffner.

Thomas McAllister.

Brett Partridge.

Gale Bertram.

Kristina gestures toward the seat in the middle of the room, and Lisbon hesitates. One of the men behind her gives her a rough push, and she stumbles forward. She regains her footing and moves toward the chair. Kristina remains standing by Lisbon's shoulder.

One of the guards grabs Lisbon's hands roughly and pulls them behind her back. Lisbon winces as she feels another zip tie being put into place around her wrists.

Lisbon doesn't speak.

The guard leaves the room.

"Welcome, Teresa," says Haffner, and Lisbon's eyes snap up to him. "Glad you could join us."

Lisbon remains silent, her eyes searching the room again. She takes note of a video camera placed between McAllister's and Partridge's chairs, and she watches, horrified, as Partridge plays with what appears to be a military knife, twirling it between his fingers.

"We'll try to make this quick," says Haffner. "No need to draw it out. Once we get the footage we need…"

Lisbon tries to hide the shiver that creeps down her spine. So that's it, then. They're planning to kill her—and tape it so Jane can watch later.

McAllister stands up. "We're going to try a little experiment," he says, walking towards Lisbon. "As dear Charlotte has probably told you, Jay Fairfax is a well-known psychologist. He hypothesized that since hypnosis can be used to eliminate pain, it might also be used to _produce_ it. We're going to test that hypothesis and see if he's right. And then, after we're finished, we'll deliver the video of our little experiment to Patrick. You know, to get a second opinion—to see what he thinks."

Lisbon immediately points out the flaw in this plan. "Hypnosis will only work if I believe it can," says Lisbon, her voice quiet but sure. Jane has told her many times that hypnosis is only successful on those whose minds are prone to suggestion, and hers is not.

McAllister smiles.

"Well, you better convince yourself," says Partridge, still spinning the knife between his fingers. "Because if you can't fall under, we'll skip the hypnosis on Charlotte and cut straight to more...effective methods." The knife stills, and Partridge grins at her.

McAllister turns to Kristina and waves a hand. "Take it away."

Lisbon turns her attention to Kristina.

"Look right at me," says Kristina in a relaxed, collected tone. "Focus on me—and my voice. Think about a staircase. You're at the top of the staircase, and together we're going to walk down…down…down. Alright? Take one step."

Lisbon's heart explodes in her chest. _This won't work_ , she thinks. There is only one person capable of hypnotizing her, and Patrick Jane is nowhere to be found. Lisbon begins to panic. If she can't fall under...

 _Not Charlotte. Not Charlotte._

Kristina's voice is fading out, and Lisbon tries desperately to cling to it.

"You feel that? With every step down you take, you relax a little more."

But Lisbon is far from relaxed, and she fidgets, the zip ties rubbing against her wrists painfully.

She wishes Jane were here. Jane could fix everything.

And suddenly, Lisbon feels his presence. Her heart stops racing, her pulse returns to a normal rate. She is able to focus on Kristina's voice.

"Another step down…that's it. And another."

Lisbon's eyelids close.

"One more step… _and you're there_." Kristina brushes back the hair from the left side of Lisbon's neck. "Good."

Lisbon's body is limp; she has no energy to move, to respond. Her connection with Jane disappears.

Kristina's fingers hover over Lisbon's neck.

"I want you to think of acid," says Kristina. "Acid so potent that it causes flesh to disintegrate. Now imagine that that acid coats my skin. I am acid. And everything I touch…burns. Your skin will melt, will decay under my fingers."

She presses a fingertip to Lisbon's neck, and Lisbon has to fight the urge to call out, feeling as though her skin is being eaten away, as though her nerves are literally on fire. Some part of her is aware that this isn't real, that it's not really happening, but _the pain feels real_ , and she cannot tell the difference anymore.

Kristina moves her finger and touches it to Lisbon's skin again an inch away. Lisbon tenses as the burning sensation returns.

Suddenly, Lisbon realizes what is happening, though she is helpless to prevent it.

Kristina is drawing Red John's mark.

As soon as this dawns on Lisbon, Kristina swipes her finger across Lisbon's neck, completing the smiley face. Lisbon tenses but remains silent. Her skin is aflame.

When Kristina draws the circle to finish off the mark, Lisbon breaks.

Her scream echoes around them long after she loses her voice.

* * *

Though it has been just under an hour since Kristina had moved Lisbon to the other room, to Charlotte it feels like several have passed.

At first, Charlotte tries to do as Lisbon said—to think of her father and her mother, to keep her mind away from the concrete basement. But as soon as she hears Lisbon scream, Charlotte cannot concentrate.

She spends a few minutes pacing back and forth in the cramped room. When this makes things worse, Charlotte wraps her arms around herself and walks to the corner of the room, where she presses her back to the wall and slides down to the floor.

She puts her forehead to her knees.

Eventually, the sounds of Lisbon's struggles fade, but Charlotte cannot erase the sound of her screams.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I've ended two chapters in a row with cliffhangers, and that's about all the suspense I can handle. So, yes, this chapter will end on a happier note - however, that doesn't mean the journey there won't contain a little angst! Anyway, thanks again for reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _Let's go to the beach, get the sand through our feet_

* * *

"Brett Partridge. Thomas McAllister. Gale Bertram. Ray Haffner. Kristina Frye."

Jane lists off the names, and he is very aware of the venom in his voice. On the other end of the line, Van Pelt takes notes on her computer as Jane continues.

"I want you to get everything you can on the first four names. If my hunch is right and Kristina hasn't been in the hospital these past couple years, she'll have been off the grid, so it'll be pointless trying to find anything on her. But the others—I want to know the last calls they made on their cell phones, what towers those phones pinged off of, and locations of purchases made with credit cards within the last two days. If we can compile all that on one map, we can look for a common denominator—and that will help us narrow down a location."

Jane speaks quickly, knowing time is limited. "You got all that, Grace?" He follows Rigsby and Cho out of Lisbon's condo. Police cars and bright red and blue lights still decorate Lisbon's neighborhood, but Jane is happy to leave the scene. He's learned all he can from it.

The three men climb into the SUV, and Cho starts the engine.

"Yeah, of course," says Van Pelt, as though offended he would even have to ask. Cho pulls away from the curb. "I should have a better idea of where this is going down by the time you all get back to headquarters."

"Thanks, Grace. See you soon."

Jane hangs up, and Rigsby turns to look at him from the front seat. "You think one of those five people is Red John?" he asks.

"I think _all_ of those people are Red John," corrects Jane.

Cho swears loudly. "Makes sense," he says, accelerating through a yellow light.

"Explains why we had such disjointed information about Red John all these years," says Rigsby. "For one thing, physical descriptions of him from witnesses were never consistent—if he were actually several people, that would explain why. Plus, it explains how his influence got to be so extensive. Five times the leadership means he's five times as influential."

Jane nods.

"Red John isn't a person," he says. "It's a cult."

* * *

Lisbon barely notices when she is brought out of hypnosis. She feels like she's just walked through a burning house, the flames licking at her skin and melting flesh from bone.

Suddenly, Partridge's face leers down at her. Lisbon is too exhausted to react.

There is a flash of silver, and he cuts a slit in the shoulder of her blouse.

When he digs the knife into her exposed skin, she finally passes out.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Jane, Cho, and Rigsby are on the Major Crimes floor of CBI headquarters, huddled around Van Pelt as they wait for a map of California to load on her computer.

Suddenly, the map appears, and several red dots pop up, all corresponding to a location of a cell phone tower or a credit card purchase.

"How illegal is this?" asks Rigsby.

"Very," says Jane dismissively. He can't find it in himself to care that they haven't bothered with warrants before tracking the phones.

A second later, Jane's heart almost stops beating when he realizes most of the dots are in West Sacramento—closer than he'd thought. "Zoom in here, Grace," he says, pointing to the map.

Van Pelt enlarges the area of the map which Jane has indicated. "None of their phones are currently on right now," she says. "But several hours ago, Brett Partridge bought an army knife from a sporting goods store near the river in West Sacramento—and Gale Bertram's cell phone pinged off a tower a street over."

"Any buildings in that general area that are abandoned?" asks Cho.

Van Pelt's fingers fly across the keyboard. "Eureka," she says with a smile as something pops up on the screen. "A disposal center for hazardous wastes that went out of business during the recession a few years ago. Looks like the warehouse isn't currently in use."

"Let's go," Cho says. He strides out of the bullpen, the others following closely in his wake. Van Pelt has her phone to her ear, already calling for Sac PD to head to the scene to provide backup.

Jane practically vibrates with nervous energy as the elevator doors close shut around them.

* * *

The twenty minutes it takes to get to West Sacramento is an eternity to Jane. When they finally arrive, three unmarked Sac PD cars pull in behind them, their lights and sirens off so as not to spook the people inside the warehouse.

It is drizzling as they step out of the cars, the precipitation making the pavement glisten in the cars' headlights. The old chemical processing center stands in front of them, its presence imposing. It is adorned by several broken windows and fresh graffiti.

Jane tries to stop his hands from shaking as the group puts on Kevlar and loads their weapons. Van Pelt walks over to him holding an extra vest.

"Put this on," she says.

Jane stares at her blankly.

"You want to go in, right?"

He nods.

"Then put it on."

He acquiesces.

Two minutes later, Cho and Rigsby, their weapons drawn, lead the group of cops into the abandoned building. The first floor is dark and empty—all that remains is cracked concrete and glass from where the windows have been broken. Cho opens a metal door without a sound and begins making his way down a staircase. Rigsby and the other cops follow; Jane and Van Pelt descend the stairs last and arrive in a dimly-lit hallway.

Jane barely has time to register the presence of three guards—all of whom are in the process of turning their weapons on the police—before Cho and Rigsby shoot them down. Jane is grateful that Cho had the foresight to recommend silencers—the only sounds which reveal anything has taken place are the soft _thuds_ the bodies make as they drop.

There are two metal doors leading off the hallway, and the group splits up. Cho makes a gesture that signals to the group to break down both doors simultaneously.

A moment later, a loud crash indicates they are successful, and the metal doors swing inward. Jane follows Van Pelt into the room nearest the staircase after several cops run in, their weapons raised.

He hears gunshots echo in the adjacent room, but the cops in front of him don't fire. They part, and Jane moves through.

Charlotte looks up at him from her spot in the corner of the room.

Jane runs toward her, and she reaches out for him like a toddler who's just yelled for a parent after a particularly bad nightmare.

He pulls her against him, and she squeezes his torso with a force he did not think her capable of. "Are you alright?" he asks, breathless.

She nods. "Fine. I'm fine. But Teresa…they took her. It sounded…" Charlotte stops, her voice wavering. "It didn't sound good," she manages.

Suddenly Charlotte has released him, and they both hurry toward the other room. The first thing Jane sees are the bodies—five of them—lying strewn around the room, and he has to take several deep breaths before he realizes none of them are Lisbon's. Finally, his eyes land on a dark mane of hair.

Lisbon is slumped over in a chair, her back to him, and Cho is kneeling behind her as he cuts through the zip tie binding her wrists.

Jane sprints to her.

Cho manages to break the zip tie, and Lisbon's hands spring free. Lisbon's body, no longer held in place by the ties, slumps forward into Jane's arms, and he catches her before dropping to his knees and feeling for a pulse in her wrist.

It's weak, but it's there.

Rigsby is already on the phone requesting emergency medical services, but Jane can barely hear him as he shifts Lisbon in his arms. There are more bruises on her skin than he cares to count, but worst of all is the wound on her shoulder which has stained her blouse red.

Jane pulls back the shredded remains of her shirt to reveal Red John's mark has been carved into her skin. He breathes in deeply and cradles Lisbon closer to him.

She moans, and her eyes flutter open.

She has a difficult time focusing on him.

"Is Charlotte alright?" she asks weakly. Jane pushes her bangs out of her face, and his fingertips brush across her forehead.

"She's fine," says Jane, his eyes misting over. Lisbon looks too pale, too weak, and he's worried she will fade from him if he doesn't hold onto her tight enough. "Charlotte's fine. _You're both going to be fine_."

Lisbon smiles, and then unconsciousness pulls her under once again.

* * *

Charlotte kneels down next to Jane and wraps one arm through his. Her other hand goes to cover one of Lisbon's. She sniffs, and Jane watches as one of her tears falls and lands on Lisbon's porcelain skin.

"She's going to be fine," he repeats over and over, and after a few minutes he can no longer tell if the tears which land on Lisbon's neck are his or Charlotte's.

Eventually, two EMTs arrive, wheeling a stretcher between them. Both are female and appear to be a few years out of college. The shorter of the two squats beside Charlotte while the other lowers the stretcher to the floor next to Lisbon.

"She's got a pulse," says one EMT, holding onto Lisbon's wrist. "Slow but steady."

"What happened to her?" asks the other.

Charlotte speaks up before Jane can answer. "Stun grenade," she says. "Possible concussion, and I think something's wrong with one of her lungs as well—maybe it's collapsed? She's been coughing whenever she tries to take a deep breath."

Jane stares blankly at Charlotte, dumbfounded. "When did you go to medical school?" he asks.

Charlotte gives him a small smile. "Will and I watch a lot of _House_ ," she says.

The EMTs move Lisbon onto the stretcher, where she lays, limp. They raise the stretcher up after strapping her in, and Jane grabs Lisbon's hand.

"You the husband?" asks one of the EMTs, shooting a glance at Jane, and they begin rolling the stretcher forward.

"Yes, he is," says Charlotte quickly, running behind them to keep up. Jane decides not to contradict her.

"And you're the daughter?"

Charlotte nods, and Jane is immediately impressed with her poker face.

"Alright, then—you both ride in the ambo with us."

Jane and Charlotte share a look unnoticed by the EMTs, who are concerned with navigating Lisbon's stretcher up the stairs. Jane nods and smiles slightly, ducking his head.

A minute later, the ambulance doors slam shut, and the sirens begin to scream as they make their way to the hospital.

* * *

The EMTs hand Lisbon off to an ER nurse who meets them at the door. Charlotte hugs both EMTs before hurrying after the nurse, who wheels the stretcher into a room in the back of the ER. Another nurse joins the first, and they move Lisbon, who's still unconscious, to a hospital bed.

Jane and Charlotte stand just outside the room, not wanting to get in the way. As the ER bustles around them, Charlotte turns to Jane, burying her face in his chest, and his arms wrap instinctively around her shoulders.

A doctor rushes past them and pulls a curtain across the door, and Jane's breath catches as he loses sight of Lisbon for the first time since getting her back. A couple minutes later, a young technician wheels a large piece of machinery into Lisbon's room that Jane thinks might be for portable X-rays. He rubs his hands up and down Charlotte's back as they wait.

Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt arrive just as the X-ray technician leaves, and the doctor appears from behind the curtain. "You all are Ms. Lisbon's family?" The doctor is tall, with dark skin and dark hair pulled back in a severe ponytail. She exudes confidence, and Jane feels his heart rate return to some semblance of normal. Lisbon will be fine under the care of this doctor, he realizes, though he's not sure how he knows this.

Jane nods in response to the doctor's question. Charlotte's grip around him loosens, and she turns to face the doctor.

"My name is Dr. Johnston. I just had a look at Ms. Lisbon's X-rays, which revealed she has a pneumothorax—her right lung is collapsed."

Jane raises an eyebrow at Charlotte, whose diagnosis had been spot on.

Dr. Johnston continues. "Ms. Lisbon is now conscious, and she's agreed to the procedure we've suggested. We need to recreate the vacuum that normally exists in her chest cavity—because right now, her lung has been torn away from the lining—the pleura—and this means the lung can't properly exchange gases like it should. In order to get her lung working again, we're going to insert a suction tube into her chest between her ribs, and the tube will suck out the air that has leaked into the cavity. This will re-inflate the lung. We'll keep her on suction for a day or so and remove the tube when the lung is stable." She pauses, looking at them. "Ms. Lisbon should be perfectly fine."

Jane breathes deeply, and he realizes suddenly that his hands are shaking again.

"I should warn you all—inserting a chest tube will not be a pleasant experience for Ms. Lisbon. You may want to move down the hallway to wait until it's in. We'll give her medication, of course, so she won't feel all of the pain, but she'll still feel a great deal of it."

Jane steps forward. "She'll be awake for the procedure?"

Dr. Johnston nods. "Yes, that's typical."

"Can I be with her?" Jane asks, pushing his squeamishness aside—he can't imagine leaving Lisbon to go through this alone.

"You're her husband?" asks Dr. Johnston.

Cho answers this time. "He's her husband," he confirms, his expression stoic. Dr. Johnston takes in the blood literally on his hands and doesn't argue.

"Of course," she says, gesturing for Jane to follow her inside the room as the others move down the hall.

Jane vaguely notes the presence of the two nurses scurrying around, readying surgical instruments—but he has eyes only for Lisbon, and in a second he is by her side.

" _Jane_ ," she says, and Jane feels the blood drain from his face.

Lisbon is lying in a hospital bed, wearing an oxygen mask and a hospital gown, and there's an IV in her arm. This image of her, more than anything, brings the reality of the past several hours back to Jane. Lisbon reaches for him, and he grabs her extended hand in both of his.

" _Lisbon_ ," he breathes, bringing her fingers to his lips.

"You shouldn't be here," says Lisbon quietly, and it's difficult for Jane to make out what she's saying behind the oxygen mask. "It's going to be awful for you to watch."

He smiles at her and caresses her face reverently. "Watching is the easy part. You have to experience it," he says, trying to hold it together. A tear slips out of the corner of her eye, and Jane quickly wipes it away. "I'll be here the whole time, Lisbon. Feel free to break my fingers if necessary."

She squeezes his hand, and Jane notices that she's shivering. He looks up at the nurse. "Could you get a blanket for her?"

The nurse nods, ducking out of the room for a few minutes. She returns with a blue, woven blanket that she uses to cover Lisbon's legs and lower torso. Dr. Johnston moves to Lisbon's right side.

"We're all in agreement—right pneumothorax?" she asks the nurses, who both nod.

"Alright," says Dr. Johnston. "Let's do this."

She helps Lisbon get her arm out of the sleeve of her hospital gown and moves the fabric to expose the right side of Lisbon's chest. Jane is glad to see that the cuts to Lisbon's shoulder have already been bandaged.

A nurse hands the doctor an antiseptic wipe, and Dr. Johnston moves Lisbon's right arm so that it rests above her head on her pillow. Lisbon winces as the bandage pulls, and Dr. Johnston begins to clean Lisbon's skin where she will insert the tube. She holds her hand out, and a nurse hands her a syringe needle.

"This is lidocaine—it'll help numb your skin," Dr. Johnston says. "You'll feel a pinch, and then you shouldn't feel anything at all."

Lisbon nods at her.

"Lisbon," Jane whispers, and Lisbon turns to look at him. "Look over here, okay? Right at me. Only at me."

She nods again, and for the first time that Jane can remember, he sees genuine fear in her eyes. He leans over to kiss her forehead just at the doctor pushes the needle into Lisbon's skin. Lisbon winces again.

"You alright?" asks Dr. Johnston.

"Fine," Lisbon says tersely, and she squeezes Jane's hand.

Jane watches as the doctor pushes lidocaine several more times into the side of Lisbon's chest. "Can you feel any of that?" Dr. Johnston asks.

Lisbon shakes her head.

"Good," says the doctor, picking up a scalpel. "Alright. I'm going to make an incision. Just hold tight. You're doing great."

Jane brushes his thumb across Lisbon's cheek. "Right at me, Lisbon. Look right at me."

He cannot watch as Dr. Johnston cuts through Lisbon's skin. Lisbon doesn't react, though, and he thinks the lidocaine must have done its job.

"You're doing fantastic," says the doctor as she hands the scalpel to a nurse. The nurse gives her a line of plastic tubing about the diameter of Jane's thumb. "Alright," Dr. Johnston continues. "This is the tricky part. You ready?"

Lisbon nods, and Jane puts his head closer to hers. Her breathing is shallow, her complexion pallid, and Jane holds tighter to her hand.

Dr. Johnston begins to thread the tube into the incision. At first, it goes in without much resistance—but Jane can tell when the tubing hits the lining of Lisbon's lung because she tenses against him.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I've got to use some force here. The pleura is quite tough."

Jane watches in horror as the doctor's muscles tense with the force she uses to push the tube into Lisbon's chest. Lisbon cries out and squeezes Jane's hand again. "Look at me, Lisbon. _At me,_ " Jane repeats.

"Almost there," says Dr. Johnston, continuing to push the tube against the lining of Lisbon's lung. She is using so much force that Lisbon's muscles are straining to keep herself from being pushed over, and Jane feels her shake with the tension. Several tears roll down Lisbon's cheeks, and Jane wipes them away again.

After another minute, the lining of the cavity gives way, and the tube slides into Lisbon's chest. Lisbon takes a deep breath.

"All done," says the doctor, grabbing the surgical tape and gauze offered to her by the nurse. "I know that was unpleasant—we'll get you some good pain meds to help, alright?"

Lisbon looks up at the ceiling, breathing heavily. Jane glances at the doctor. "Thank you," he says, the gratitude evident in his voice, and he turns his attention back to Lisbon as Dr. Johnston patches up Lisbon's side. The doctor nods and exits the room, which turns silent. The two nurses continue to bustle around, prepping Lisbon to be moved to a room where she will recover.

Jane notices a suction-like sound coming from the tube sticking out of the side of Lisbon's chest. This alarms him at first before he remembers that the whole point of this procedure was to recreate the vacuum in Lisbon's chest—the suction is clearly helping with that. He follows the tubing from Lisbon's hospital gown to where it is attached to the wall, where a machine sucks in extra air and blood that has leaked into her pleural cavity.

Jane shakes his head, dazed. He's still not entirely clear on the details of the procedure, but Lisbon is breathing normally again, and that's all that matters to him.

He reaches over to move Lisbon's hospital gown to cover up the right side of her chest.

"How does it look?" she asks weakly.

He smiles at her. "Bizarre," he says truthfully. "But you're going to have an awesome scar to show for it."

Lisbon rolls her eyes. "As if I needed another one," she says lightly.

Jane laughs and leans down so that they are face to face. He touches a finger to her oxygen mask. "Think you can survive without this for a few seconds?"

"I think I can manage that," she says, and Jane shifts her mask over slightly.

He kisses her, and he nearly sobs with relief when he feels her smile against his lips.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: We're nearing the end of this story (one more chapter, I think, and then the epilogue). However, since this fic took on a life of its own that I hadn't anticipated when I first planned it out, there are lots of details which I want to expand on and explore further...and that means a sequel! So look out for that at some point, and thanks for reading and reviewing this story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _I don't have the time for a drink from the cup_

* * *

One of the nurses clears her throat, and Lisbon pulls back from Jane, blushing furiously. Jane, however, is grinning ear to ear.

"Ms. Lisbon," says the nurse. "Your family is waiting very patiently outside. You feeling up for visitors?"

Lisbon smiles at her shyly. "Of course," she says. "Send them in."

"After they stop by, we'll take you upstairs to get you in a room for the night, okay?"

"Thank you," says Lisbon. Jane moves off to the side as Cho, Rigsby, Van Pelt, and Charlotte enter.

"Hi, Boss," says Van Pelt tentatively, and Lisbon can see her visibly sigh with relief. "How are you feeling?"

Lisbon shrugs and winces, and she takes note to avoid that particular type of movement in the future. "Could be worse," she says, attempting a smile.

Van Pelt reaches for her hand. "We'll let you rest," she says, "but we just wanted you to know how glad we are that you're alright."

Rigsby and Cho nod in the background, and Lisbon notices that Rigsby is holding something behind his back. She raises an eyebrow at him.

He steps forward and hands her a bag of mini Hershey bars. "I'm guessing the food here sucks," he says. "You're going to need an emergency stash of chocolates, believe me."

Lisbon laughs and immediately feels a sharp pain on her right side. Her hand goes to cover her torso instinctively, and Jane begins to move toward her, anxious. She shoots him a look. "I'm fine," she says. "It's going to hurt for a while. I better get used to it."

Jane steps back, the concern still evident on his face.

Lisbon looks over at Cho, who has moved to her side. "Glad you're okay, Lisbon," he says, and he raises his hand to her. They bump fists, and a minute later, her team is gone. Only Jane and Charlotte stand vigil at her bedside now.

"Are you alright?" asks Lisbon, meeting Charlotte's brilliant sea green gaze.

Charlotte gives a half sniffle, half chuckle. "You're the one in the hospital bed. I really should be asking _you_ that question."

"I'm a little banged up," Lisbon admits truthfully. She hopes Charlotte never finds out exactly what happened to her after Kristina separated them. However, Lisbon also realizes that Charlotte has inherited Jane's intelligence—keeping anything from her will be nigh impossible. "But I'll be fine."

"Thank you," says Charlotte suddenly, leaning against the side of Lisbon's bed. "You saved my life tonight more times than I can count. I wouldn't be here if not for you."

Lisbon's eyes flash over to Jane, who seems to be staring determinedly at the ceiling as though trying not to intrude on their conversation. She turns her attention back to Charlotte.

"You're family," Lisbon says softly, raising her arm weakly to tuck an errant strand of blonde hair behind Charlotte's ear. "I'd do it all over again, as many times as necessary, to make sure you were safe."

She has difficulty getting the words out around the oxygen mask, but from the way Charlotte's eyes shine and Jane smiles, she knows they've understood.

The nurse walks back in. "Ready to be moved to your own room?" she says.

Lisbon nods. "And some pain medication?" she asks hopefully.

The nurse holds up a clear plastic cup containing a large pill. "Coming right up," she says. She turns to Jane and Charlotte. "Ms. Lisbon will be on the neuro/trauma/peds floor, if you want to meet us there in a few minutes."

Jane nods. He steps around Charlotte to brush another kiss to Lisbon's temple. "We'll see you soon," he says, and they leave, Jane's arm around his daughter's shoulders.

After Lisbon has swallowed the pain pill, the nurse pulls back the curtains covering the door to the room and detaches Lisbon's tubing from the wall. "Once we get up to your floor, we'll get you hooked up to suction again," she says, and she begins rolling Lisbon's bed forward. Another nurse appears to help navigate the rolling bed down the hallway towards the elevator.

When the elevator doors close on them, the older of the two nurses looks down at Lisbon. "Your family is beautiful," she says with a smile. "The way your husband looks at you…" she trails off. "How long have you been married?"

Lisbon blinks and wonders if the pain medication has already begun to make her thoughts hazy. _Did I miss something?_ she thinks.

It takes a few seconds for her figure it out. Jane must have pretended to be her husband in order to be by her side during the procedure. Lisbon decides to go along with the story in order to avoid explaining the enigma that is Patrick Jane.

"A long time," she says simply in response to the nurse's question.

The other nurse turns to Lisbon. "He's very much in love with you," she notes. "It's like a fairy tale," she adds as an afterthought.

Her companion nods. "Restores my faith in the universe," she says.

Lisbon smiles and closes her eyes.

* * *

Jane walks with Charlotte into the waiting room of the ER in search of the rest of the team. He spots them deep in conversation with a teenager and two older individuals who appear to be his parents.

Charlotte lets out what Jane can only describe as a shriek. "Will!" she says, and she races toward him.

Will steps toward her and envelops her in a bear hug. Will, though clearly no more than sixteen years old, is at least a few inches taller than Jane already, and when he straightens up with his arms around Charlotte, he lifts her clean off the ground.

He sets her down as his eyes lock with Jane's, and his expression becomes a little frightened. Jane lets Will sweat for a second as he reads him, taking in the boy's dark brown eyes and strong build. Then Jane smiles.

Will extends a hand for Jane to shake, but Jane ignores this and pulls him in for a hug instead.

A second later, Will pulls back, looking perplexed but pleased.

"I hope it's alright that I called the Donovans," says Charlotte hurriedly.

"More than alright," says Jane, clapping a hand to Will's shoulder. "I wanted to meet them myself."

He shakes hands with Melody and her husband, Peter. He can't find words to tell them how grateful he is that Charlotte has had them in her life, but when his eyes mist over again and Melody offers him a tissue from her purse, he thinks they know anyway.

* * *

Several hours later, Lisbon is awoken by a dull ache in the right side of her chest. She blinks blearily, and the silver strands of moonlight from the hospital window begin to come into focus. Lisbon notes that her oxygen mask has been replaced by a nasal cannula, and Charlotte is curled up on an armchair on the other side of the room, a blanket tucked tightly around her. Lisbon becomes aware of a soft warmth covering her hand, and she looks over to see Jane at her side, his head pillowed on his arms on the edge of the mattress. One of his hands covers her own.

And suddenly, Lisbon doesn't hurt at all.

However, she takes in Jane's hunched position at her bedside and notes that come morning, _he_ most definitely will. Chuckling lightly, she slides her hand out from underneath his and runs it through his golden curls.

Jane comes to gradually, moaning softly. He looks up at her, and she watches as his gaze goes from cloudy to crystal clear.

He smiles. "Hi," he whispers.

"What are you two still doing here?" asks Lisbon in a similarly soft tone. She means to be stern, but somehow she cannot quite manage it.

"You're here," says Jane simply. He looks at her for a few seconds before elaborating. "I tried to take Charlotte over to the hotel across the street, but she didn't want to leave you. To be honest, I didn't want to let you out of my sight either."

Her fingers still continue to run through his hair.

"Come here," she says, pulling her hand away. She tries to scoot over, but a sharp pain radiates in her chest, and Jane is immediately on his feet, looming over her.

"Lisbon?" he asks, his voice tense. He looks around for the call button and presses it. "Could we get some more pain medication, please?" he asks the nurse over the speaker. Then he returns his gaze to Lisbon, who is still trying to move over without aggravating her wounds. "Lisbon, what are you doing?" he asks.

She rolls her eyes. "Making room for you, obviously," she says.

The nurse comes in at that point to give Lisbon another pain pill, which she swallows. When the nurse leaves, Lisbon moves over another inch. "Come here," she says again, this time with more force. "Your back will thank me tomorrow morning."

This time, _he_ rolls his eyes, but he climbs in next to her without further argument.

He keeps his hands to himself, as though scared to touch her.

"I'm fine, Jane," she whispers.

His eyes rove up and down her body, cataloging her injuries. "Is there a part of you that's still whole?" he asks, trying to keep his tone light. "Part of you that's not hurting?"

She grabs his hand and lays it on her heart before covering his fingers with her own. "This," she says. "This is whole."

Jane closes his eyes tightly. "When I first saw you in that room…" he begins. "Lisbon, you looked like a corpse. I don't think I'll ever get that image out of my mind."

She squeezes his hand. "Sometimes being a mentalist has its disadvantages, huh? You can't forget anything."

He opens his eyes, and she is surprised by what she finds there.

His eyes have seen too much, she realizes. Far too much darkness and hatred.

"What happened?" Jane asks in low voice. "Apparently they had the audacity to film it—but Cho said there was no way in hell he was going to let me watch the video."

Lisbon shivers. "I don't want you to see that," she says. " _Ever_. That video just contains more images you'll never be able to forget. They'll haunt you."

"They'll haunt you, too—but you have no say in the matter," Jane points out. "Maybe sharing the burden, so to speak, will help?"

She hesitates. Jane has experienced enough pain for a lifetime. She has no desire to add to it.

But she and he are more than they were before. They are _together_ now, and he deserves to know the truth.

"They told me they would kill Charlotte if I wouldn't be hypnotized," she whispers, looking away. Jane's hand twitches underneath hers. "So they took me under, and they used Jay Fairfax's research…" She trails off, finding it difficult to continue.

" _What did they do to you?_ " Jane asks.

"He specialized in psychogenic pain," Lisbon murmurs, hoping this will be enough to tell him what happened.

It is.

Jane swears loudly as comprehension dawns on him, and Lisbon's eyes flash up to his. She can't remember ever seeing his face so dark, so angry, and she lifts her fingers to his brow in hopes that her touch will erase the worry lines there. She glances over at Charlotte, but the teenager hasn't stirred.

Eventually, Jane begins to take several deep breaths, and he calms down.

"If they were using hypnosis to torture you," he whispers, his voice breaking on the second-to-last word, "why did they carve Red John's mark into your skin? Wasn't psychological pain enough for them?"

"I didn't pass out until…until the knife," says Lisbon.

He swears again.

"It's over, Jane," she whispers. "It's done. You saved me—you can't do anything more."

A shadow passes over his eyes.

"It's far from over," he says, and she feels his hand become cold and clammy. He looks down at their hands. "When I first found you, I thought all five of them—Partridge, Bertram, McAllister, Haffner, and Kristina—were dead. Turns out," he continues, moving his hand up so that he can trace a finger down her neck. She shivers. "Turns out that Kristina was still breathing. She was the only one of the five without a weapon, so the cops didn't aim for her. But when the four others fired back…she got hit in the crossfire. Here." He indicates to a spot on Lisbon's arm, his fingers hovering over an artery. "She fell over and stayed down. She lost a lot of blood before anyone realized she was alive."

" _She's still alive?_ "

"She's in this very hospital," confirms Jane. "In ICU."

Lisbon touches his face again, reading him in an instant. "Jane, what do you know that I don't?"

He looks at her for a long time, as though debating whether or not to add to her worry as she recovers from the traumatic procedure. Eventually, he must decide that sharing the truth with her is most important. He sighs. "In order to find you and Charlotte," he starts, "I had to call in the favor that Stiles owed me. He told me that Kristina, McAllister, Haffner, Bertram, and Partridge were members of Visualize years ago before they got kicked out. They went on to form their own cult in response—a cult which they called Red John." Jane feels Lisbon shiver again in his arms. "Red John is not just one person," he says, taking a deep breath. "He is many. And there are likely many more people involved than the five who took you tonight."

Jane pulls the blanket up around her more tightly and moves in closer so that the heat from his skin radiates toward her.

"It's not over?" Lisbon asks, stunned.

Jane shakes his head. "No," he says, his tone defeated. "It's not."

"But we have leads," she says determinedly. "We have the Fairfaxes, and we have Kristina. We should be able to track down other members of the cult through them, and through the others. It's different now, Jane. We have _strong_ leads—and we have each other."

"Red John's presence has permeated throughout all the law enforcement agencies in the state. You know this, Lisbon—we've seen it over and over again. There's no telling how many people are involved."

She moves his hand back to rest upon her heart. "And we will find them all," she says. "Each and every one of them." She glances over at Charlotte before holding Jane's gaze. "Listen to me," she says sternly. "We will be fine. This perfect little family that we have—I will keep it safe. _I promise you_."

Her fingers reach up to run through his hair again. He closes his eyes at her touch.

"And I promise you," he says.

They fall asleep tangled in each other's arms.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Thank you all for coming along on this journey! I've thoroughly enjoyed writing for you guys, and I hope you like the ending. The epilogue will be posted in the next couple days, and then after that I'm possibly planning a holiday oneshot (and finally updating the _In Case_ series). And, as always, thanks for your comments. They never fail to inspire me.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _Let's rest for a while 'til our souls catch us up_

* * *

A nurse flips on the lights before sunrise, and Lisbon feels Jane tense beside her.

"Sorry, dears," says the nurse. "Dr. Johnston wants an X-ray to make sure your lung is doing alright, Ms. Lisbon."

Jane makes to get out of the bed, but Lisbon holds tight to his hand. He leans over to press his lips against hers and whispers, "I need to get out of the way for the X-ray. I won't leave—I promise."

She finally opens her eyes. The first thing she sees is Jane's intense sea green gaze.

She nods and releases his hand.

Jane goes to stand in the corner of the room as the X-ray technician enters with the portable machine. The tech, a young man with a military-style haircut, puts a protective lead vest over Lisbon's legs while the nurse raises Lisbon's bed so that she is sitting upright. Then the tech positions the X-ray machine to get a clear view of Lisbon's torso. The nurse, an older woman whose hair is beginning to gray, steals out of the room as the tech goes to stand behind the monitor.

"Alright," he says. "I'm going to ask you to take a deep breath and then hold it until I tell you to let it out. Ready? Okay, deep breath."

Lisbon tries to expand her lungs, but the pain makes it nearly impossible, and she grabs a fistful of blanket, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jane begin to tap his fingers together impatiently.

"And breathe out," says the tech, glancing down at the screen. "Perfect. Thank you." He grabs the lead vest from her legs and pulls the X-ray machine out of the room, flipping off the lights as he leaves.

Jane is suddenly by Lisbon's side again, and he's already lowering the bed back so that she is lying down. He slips under the covers, and she grabs his hand again.

"Sleep, Lisbon," he says.

She takes one last look at him and obeys.

* * *

When Lisbon wakes again, the clock on the wall tells her it is past noon. Her body tells her that her pain medication has long since worn off.

There is a coldness beside her. Jane is nowhere to be found, and Charlotte has vacated the recliner on the opposite side of the room. In her place is Cho, who looks up at Lisbon from the novel he's reading— _The Count of Monte Cristo_ —as her eyes bring him into focus.

"Hey," he says, and there is a trace of a smile on his face. He stands and moves to the side of her bed. Lisbon reaches over to hit the button that will raise the bed up again.

"Hey," croaks Lisbon, and Cho immediately reaches for a pitcher of water on the bedside table. He pours her a glass, and Lisbon drinks eagerly. "Thank you," she says, handing the cup back to him. She hits the call button to ask for another pain pill.

When the nurse leaves after giving Lisbon her medication, Cho says, "I made Jane and Charlotte head back to your place—get a shower, a change of clothes. Rigsby and Van Pelt are with them. They should be back any minute."

Lisbon breathes a sigh of relief at this. "Good. Charlotte still needs protection. God forbid, we might even have to think about getting Jane a weapon."

This time, Cho actually does smile. "Let's not talk crazy," he says.

Lisbon rolls her eyes. "I'm on heavy painkillers. Give me a break."

At that moment, the four other members of her family show up, all carrying enormous bouquets of flowers.

Lisbon flushes furiously.

"Teresa!" says Charlotte, placing her vase down on Lisbon's bed stand. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," says Lisbon. "Thank you for the flowers." She glances at each bouquet in turn. Charlotte's is full of bright yellow daffodils, both Rigsby's and Van Pelt's contain multicolored gerbera daisies, and Jane's holds at least a dozen tulips. She wonders vaguely about the significance of these particular flowers.

"Of course," says Charlotte. "To be honest, these hospital rooms look pretty drab. We needed a splash of color." Lisbon smiles. It is one of the first times she's heard Charlotte sound like a normal teenager.

Van Pelt, Rigsby, and Jane set their vases on the windowsill, and Jane leans over to kiss Lisbon's forehead. Though Rigsby remains oblivious and Cho unfazed, Van Pelt picks up on the change in their relationship immediately, and she shoots Lisbon a grin. Lisbon ducks her eyes but smiles all the same—she'd forgotten that her relationship with Jane had been largely kept secret from the world besides Charlotte.

Jane sits down on the edge of Lisbon's bed, and she threads her fingers through his without thinking about it.

"Hi," she says shyly.

He grins at her.

At this moment, Dr. Johnston walks into the room. "Ms. Lisbon," she says, her voice loud and sure. "How's the pain today?"

"Manageable," says Lisbon, and Jane squeezes her hand.

"Good," says Dr. Johnston. She moves toward the end of Lisbon's bed and folds her arms over her white lab coat. "I have some good news—your X-ray this morning looked promising. I want to take you off suction today."

"I can go home?" asks Lisbon, and she sees Jane's eyes light up.

Dr. Johnston chuckles at her enthusiasm. "Not quite. We want you to stay at least one more night so we can monitor your lung for a while longer. We'll take an X-ray later tonight after suction has been off for a few hours, and we'll take one again tomorrow morning. If the lung still looks good, then we'll take the chest tube out, and you'll be good to go."

Jane's thumb brushes back and forth across the back of Lisbon's hand. She tries to take a deep breath.

She pushes her disappointment aside at having to remain in the hospital for another night, realizing that in light of all that has happened, it is probably safest for her to remain here anyway. She turns her attention back to Dr. Johnston.

"Has the nurse been in to explain your breathing exercises?" asks the doctor.

"Not yet," says Lisbon. "I just woke up."

Dr. Johnston nods. "With lung injuries," she says, "we always get worried about opportunistic infections like pneumonia. Doing some breathing exercises will help the little air sacs in your lungs expand properly, which will prevent fluid buildup—and, thus, pneumonia. I'll send your nurse over to explain in a bit. But before I leave, do you have any questions that I can answer?"

Lisbon looks over at Jane before glancing back at the doctor. "How long does recovery from a pneumothorax usually take?"

"A while," says Dr. Johnston. "You probably won't really feel like yourself for, oh, six weeks or so. But if you feel up to it, after I turn off suction, it would certainly help if you could start walking around the hallways here. We want to prevent as much muscle atrophy as we can."

Lisbon nods. "Alright. Thanks."

Dr. Johnston moves to the wall to turn off suction from Lisbon's chest tube. "When you walk around the floor," she says, "make sure you take this box with you." She indicates to the small, shoebox-sized contraption which is connected to the tubing coming out of Lisbon's chest. As Lisbon shifts, she watches as a few drops of red liquid make their way down the clear tubing to drain into the box. She nods at Dr. Johnston.

"I'll be back in tonight before I leave," says Dr. Johnston, smiling at them, and she heads out the door.

Van Pelt looks at Rigsby pointedly. "Wayne, you want to come with me to get a cup of coffee? Charlotte—what about you?"

Charlotte doesn't need any encouragement, and the two of them grab Rigsby's arms to pull him out of the room. Cho shakes his head, amused that Rigsby still cannot seem to take a hint. "I'll be out in the hallway if you need me," he says, grabbing his book.

"Thanks, Cho," says Lisbon.

When the door closes behind him, Jane speaks. "You feeling up for a walk?"

Lisbon looks at him. "Actually," she says, blushing slightly, "what I'd really like now is a shower." She is tired of feeling Kristina's fingers on her skin. Perhaps a hot shower will help erase the sensation.

Jane's expression doesn't give anything away. He just nods and shrugs out of his suit jacket, moving around to the other side of the bed to help her stand. As she moves, Lisbon is all too aware that she is wearing a hospital gown and little else. She clutches the back of her gown and stands up.

Jane leans over to pick up the little box and tubing, and together they move slowly over to the bathroom.

Lisbon notices that someone has deposited her overnight bag by the door, and her mood lifts at the thought of clean clothes and shampoo. Jane sees her expression and chuckles lightly. "You're welcome," he says, and she smiles at him. He closes the bathroom door behind them, carrying the tubing and the overnight bag.

The bathroom is tiny, and Lisbon moves slowly and carefully to maneuver around Jane. She reaches for the nozzle of the shower. When the water is satisfactorily warm, Lisbon turns from Jane, keeping her eyes trained on the floor, and lets her hospital gown fall from her shoulders.

She hears his quick intake of breath. " _Teresa_ ," he says. " _Your back_."

Lisbon freezes at the sound of her first name. He doesn't use it very often—he hasn't used it, in fact, since they'd become _them._

"What?" she asks, turning over her shoulder to look at him. The darkness has returned to his eyes, and the lines on his forehead appear more prominent than ever.

She feels his fingers ghost across her back. "I didn't think it was possible for skin to look this bruised," he whispers.

"The explosion threw me against the wall," she says. "Don't worry—Charlotte was farther away from it than I was." She looks away, but she can still hear him breathing.

He takes a step closer. She shivers.

He drops a kiss to the spot between her shoulder and neck.

She steps into the shower, still facing away from him. She takes care to keep her bandages as far as possible from the spray.

Jane finds shampoo and conditioner as well as soap in her overnight bag, and he helps her wash her hair. His hands massage her scalp, and he doesn't seem to care about the water droplets landing on his shirtsleeves. Later, he grabs a washcloth and dabs lightly at the grime on her skin, trying not to aggravate her wounds. Lisbon rips the gauze off the injury on her shoulder, and as she looks at Red John's mark, the water spraying her body suddenly feels cold. She tosses the gauze on the floor of the shower, biting back tears, and Jane presses the washcloth to the mark gently, trying to remove the last traces of blood.

The whole time, he is silent.

He doesn't speak again until the soap is rinsed from her skin and the water has stopped running. He grabs a towel from the shelf and holds it out for her. "Careful," he says as she steps back, her back to his chest. He wraps the towel around her body, almost like a pair of wings folding over her, and his arms come to wrap around her torso.

She leans against him, not particularly caring that her wet hair will dampen his vest and dress shirt. He ducks his head into the crook of her neck.

" _I love you_ ," he whispers into her skin, his lips on her neck.

His warmth is everywhere, and in his arms she is finally _safe_.


	10. Epilogue

**AN: Thank you for following this story until the end - I hope the epilogue lives up to expectations. And stay on the lookout for the sequel! I'm not sure when I'll get around to writing it, but I'm already plotting away and very excited about it :)**

 **Thanks also for the great response to my newest oneshot,** _ **Lend Thy Light**_ **. I'm glad you guys enjoyed it.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

 _Bring on the wonder_  
 _Bring on the song_  
 _I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long_

* * *

The next day, Lisbon braces herself when walking over the threshold of her condo, expecting to see Red John's bloody mark or other evidence of the events that had transpired two nights ago. What she finds instead is a fresh coat of paint on the wall in her living room, still glistening and smelling as though it's just been put up. Jane hovers a few inches away, his hands extended toward her to catch her if she falls.

She reaches out to squeeze his hand, hoping to reassure him.

He squeezes back and guides her over to the couch.

Before she sits down, he moves the cushions to provide more support for her back. Then he offers both his hands to her, and she grabs his forearms to steady herself as she sits down. She tries not to notice the way her muscles shake.

At that moment, the rest of the team comes in, all of them laden with grocery bags. They head to the kitchen, where Lisbon can hear them bustling around and attempting to put their purchases in the proper locations.

Lisbon closes her eyes, feeling slightly nauseous.

Even walking from the car to her couch is exhausting.

Jane's hand grabs at the ponytail holder on her wrist, and he gathers her hair and pulls it through the hairpiece. She looks up at him, wondering how he knew she wanted her hair out of her face but couldn't find the energy to do anything about it herself.

He smiles at her. "Pain meds?" he asks.

"Please," she says, closing her eyes again and leaning back onto the cushions. He brushes a kiss to her forehead and heads to the kitchen.

He returns a minute later with a pill and a glass of water. She downs both.

He holds her gaze, his hand coming up to brush her cheek. "You okay here for a while?" he asks.

Lisbon nods. She knows he wants to return to Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt to discuss their next options. She wishes she felt up to joining them, but she can barely keep her eyes open.

"I'm fine," she says, and she manages to raise her arm enough to grab his bicep. She pulls slightly, wanting him near, and he moves toward her willingly.

He kisses her. "I'll be in the kitchen," he says as he pulls away. "Call if you need anything."

His sea green gaze lingers on her for another second, and suddenly she is lost in his eyes. She is pulled under and remembers no more.

* * *

She wakes up a few hours later, feeling hazy and disoriented.

" _Everybody lies, Wilson_ ," says a snarky voice, and a soft chuckle sounds beside her that Lisbon immediately identifies as Charlotte's.

Lisbon opens her eyes.

Charlotte is indeed sitting next to her, wrapped up in a throw blanket. Lisbon's eyes flash to the television, where an old episode of _House_ is currently playing. When Charlotte notices that Lisbon is awake, she grabs the remote and turns down the volume.

"We already had dinner," says Charlotte softly. "Do you want me to get you something?"

Lisbon shakes her head weakly. "Not just yet," she says. She can hear low voices coming from the kitchen. Cho is currently speaking, and though she can't make out his exact words, she gathers from his tone that the subject is anything but bright.

"They've been talking for a while," Charlotte continues. "You know, trying to figure out what we should do."

Lisbon nods. "It might not be safe for us here in the long run," she says. "We don't know how many of them are still out there."

Charlotte gives her a grim look. "Where would we go if not here?" she asks.

"I don't know," says Lisbon honestly. "Your father might have some connections, but…I don't know."

They are silent for a while, then Charlotte speaks again. "When you were in the hospital," she says slowly, choosing her words carefully, "Dad talked to me about you. He wanted to make sure I was okay with…with you becoming a member of the family."

Lisbon holds her breath, suddenly very anxious.

"I told him I thought you already were," says Charlotte as though this is the most obvious thing in the world, and Lisbon inhales deeply. They lock eyes, and Charlotte smiles. "You didn't just save me—you've been saving my dad over and over again from the day you guys met. I can tell by the way he looks at you. And if that's not family, I don't know what is." She pauses, collecting herself. "I'd love if you were part of my family, and…and I'd be honored to be a part of yours."

Lisbon doesn't know what to say, and her eyes mist over as she looks at the girl who she's come to view as a daughter. So instead of speaking, she reaches over to pull Charlotte close, ignoring the slight pang she feels in her chest from the abrupt movement. Charlotte leans into her and tosses the blanket over both their legs. When Lisbon wraps an arm around her, Charlotte says, "I told him I had to be there when he picks out the ring. I have a feeling he will lean toward ostentatious, which I'm guessing is the farthest thing from what you want."

Lisbon feels like her heart is beating double-time in her chest, reminding her how alive she is with every thump. She smiles and listens as Charlotte's breathing becomes more even, and fifteen minutes later the teenager is asleep. Lisbon's eyelids begin to droop, and she leans her cheek against the top of Charlotte's head as she herself begins to doze.

* * *

A half hour later, Jane steps into the living room to check on Lisbon and finds them like this, the television still on in the background. His insides twist not unpleasantly, and he bends over them to adjust the throw blanket on their legs.

He drops a kiss on the foreheads of both his girls and heads back to the kitchen.

* * *

Lisbon's eyes flash open.

The only light in her bedroom comes from the alarm clock, which reads _1:23 AM_ in bright red.

She turns to her other side and is immediately face to face with Jane's green gaze.

"You were watching me sleep," she says accusingly, her voice still low with exhaustion.

He shrugs. "A couple days ago I thought I'd never see you again," he says. "Ever since, it's been difficult for me to stop staring."

She smiles at him through the darkness. "We're going to be okay, Jane."

He brings her fingertips to his lips in response.

"What did you and the team decide?"

Instead of answering right away, he lifts her t-shirt. His fingers come to rest on the bandage just underneath her right breast where the chest tube had been. She is suddenly very aware of the fact that she is not wearing a bra, and she tries to slow her heart rate, knowing Jane will have felt it increase.

After a few minutes, he finally speaks.

"None of us think it's safe for you and Charlotte to stay in town," he says. "Especially given your condition. As soon as you feel up for traveling, I want us to go into hiding."

Lisbon tenses. "You think it's that serious?"

He sighs. "Look at it this way. How likely is it that the leader of the cult would have been directly involved in your kidnapping? Isn't it more likely that whoever is in charge had his minions do the dirty work? They were stupid enough to get themselves on camera torturing you—there's got to be someone higher up involved who wanted them to take the blame."

She wants to argue, but his logic is sound.

"Partridge, Bertram, McAllister, Haffner, or Kristina were not capable of leading a group that influential. Hell, all of them together probably couldn't have done it. Someone else, someone higher up, is orchestrating this. I have to get you and Charlotte out of Sacramento before we learn what they're capable of."

"Where will we go?"

"I still have some carnie connections," Jane says darkly. "I'm reaching out to people. I should know soon."

"Will Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt come with?"

"They're staying over here for now, but I don't know if they'll accompany us when we leave. The more people we need to hide, the more difficult it becomes—we'd be increasingly likely to be recognized. But they'd provide us with more security. I don't know. I still need to think it over. And," he adds, "of course I want your opinion on the matter. Whatever we decide, it will be a team decision."

She feels her skin begin to overheat, and she is suddenly aware that her t-shirt is soaked with sweat. Almost as though Jane has read her thoughts, he pulls the comforter away from her body, and she welcomes the cooler air.

"We're going to be okay," she says again. She wonders if she actually believes this.

She feels Jane nod.

They are silent for a few minutes, and Lisbon's mind whirls, trying to process the events of the past few days.

As she looks at Jane, her eyes roving over him, something falls into place.

For a long time, Lisbon has allowed her mind to guide her, reasoning and rationalizing her way through every decision. And now, all of the sudden, she feels as though her soul—and her heart—have finally caught up.

The atmosphere shifts in the darkened room, and Lisbon begins to realize that her heart and her soul belong to the man beside her. And from the look in his eyes, the way he touches her bare skin, she thinks he must feel similarly about her.

"You love me?" she whispers.

He smiles. "I'd prove it to you now," he says, "but I'm afraid your lung would give out on us."

Her skin heats again at the deliberate innuendo, but she can't help but smile back.

"In that case, I'll try to heal quickly."

He chuckles. "I'd appreciate that. For a number of reasons."

Suddenly, Jane is serious, the smile gone from his face. He leans over and helps her remove the sweaty shirt, which has begun to stick to the wounds on her back rather painfully. The cool air is soothing, but Lisbon is suddenly self-conscious of her appearance, acutely aware of the damage—the mutilation—to her skin.

Lisbon watches, entranced, as Jane ducks his head to kiss first the bandage under her breast and then the gauze over her shoulder.

As he pulls back, their eyes lock. In his gaze, there is no pity, only something she can best describe as adoration, and it hits her all over again that Jane truly does love her. All of her.

Even the parts she thinks are damaged.

"I love you," she says, the words just above a whisper.

She can't remember ever seeing the world with such clarity before.

And though she can't explain it, she knows wholeheartedly that whatever challenges await in their future, they will be able to overcome them.

" _I love you_ ," she says again, this time stronger and with more force. A blinding smile spreads across his face.

They're going to be okay.

She is sure of it.


End file.
